


One Word Said

by sunsetrose20



Series: One Word Said [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:32:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25066210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetrose20/pseuds/sunsetrose20
Summary: Neither Thor nor Loki could remember when their relationship took a turn into a not so brotherly direction, but what they both knew was that now there was a child between them.It wasn't the happy occasion they had imagined
Relationships: Jane Foster/Thor, Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Series: One Word Said [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2060694
Comments: 20
Kudos: 130
Collections: Best Thorkis





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I'm back again, reposting this, not completely sure if I know what I'm doing. This is supposedly an attempt to organize the flashbacks previously found at the beginning of the first ten chapters into chronological order. Probably failed, but we'll see how that goes, right? Anyways, I wouldn't say the plot has changed since the ending will be the same, but a few details have been changed or added. With only minor edits, the first three chapters are pretty much the same. Changes start on chapter four.
> 
> Thoughts, ideas, comments, and constructive criticism are always welcome.

It was unclear how their arrangement came to be, and neither of them would be able to recall it until the day they faded into oblivion. Nonetheless, if they were forced to admit it, both would agree that it started after what should have been nothing more than a brawl between siblings. But then, they could not agree on how the brawl had started.

They were at an impasse.

Thor remembered pinning Loki's arms high over his head to prevent him from moving, not that it stopped his brother from squirming in his grip. Thor remembered staring at Loki's parted lips as he panted beneath him before crashing their lips together and sinking into the demanding kiss.

Loki remembered glaring up at Thor as his body was rendered immobile and opening his mouth to protest before being silenced by the other's lips on his. Loki remembered a tongue slipping into his mouth and drawing a noise from him that he would never admit to making, nor the noises that came after.

They both remembered pulling at each other's clothes before Loki whisked them away, enabling them to run hands over bare skin. They both remembered Thor entering Loki, thrusting into him, drawing illicit moan after moan. They both remembered agreeing to never speak of that night.

Except that was not the only time it happened. A week, a month, a century later. Again and again, the brothers tumbled into bed together.

{°•°}

Knowing he could become pregnant for most of his life did not ease the impact of the news of his state. Or, at least, Loki thought he was with child. There were many other things that could be causing his affliction, and if Loki were to go to the Healing Rooms, he could be free of doubt, but that wasn't an option. And, anyway, there were not a lot of things that could be draining Loki's seiðr. Perhaps it shouldn't be that big of a surprise, but how could it not be? Loki had been careful to avoid this, but, more importantly, the rare Æsir hermaphrodites were supposed to be barren. And, perhaps that was precisely why it shouldn't be a surprise. Loki had slacked in his cares thinking that, despite his parents’ many warnings, he couldn't actually become pregnant, and this was the result.

Loki was with child.

And it was his brother's.

For centuries, Loki and Thor had been in an open relationship. Thor had his lovers and Loki had his, but, at the end of the day, it was each other they put above the rest. Thor had his fair amount of admirers, but Loki didn't doubt he was the only male lover Thor had taken to bed. Loki, in contrast, didn't discriminate between male and female, nor was Loki fond of one-night stands. Sex, for Loki, was an art. Seeing people fall apart from his touch made Loki giddy in a way that he would exchange for almost nothing. With one-night stands, Loki could never quite learn the kinks he loved to exploit. The issue was that, when Loki took someone to his bed more than twice, they expected him to make commitments. But they, especially men, had never understood: no-one could own Loki.

And that was how Loki knew the child was Thor's. For almost a century, Loki had not exposed himself to anyone but his brother. But Thor wouldn't believe that, so Loki refrained from sharing the news until he could no longer hide the growing child within him.

It was a lost cause.

Loki wanted a child, albeit perhaps a little later in life and, of course, under more ideal circumstances. He was still young, true. Loki would be the first to defend that, but not so young that he couldn't care for a child. Sacrifices, Loki knew, would have to be made. A lot of sacrifices, truth be told, but Loki had always known that. The upside, in a way, Loki thought, was that carrying the child would increase the chances of the child preferring Loki's seiðr over the inferior seiðr of whomever Loki's father had planned Loki to marry.

_ It's a shame his plans won't come to fruition _ , Loki thought with a curl to his lips.

It didn't mean Loki was happy. He dreaded the upcoming months. There was no doubt Loki would be disowned, nor was Loki looking forward to the jeers and insults that would follow him throughout his pregnancy as his belly, swollen with his brother's child (not that people would know it was Thor's), made it clear to everyone that Loki had submitted to another man. Loki was also well aware that his child would be treated no differently than himself, well aware of the cruelty of wittingly exposing his child to such derision. So, perhaps this was where Loki's selfishness came into play. Loki could rip Thor's seed from his body if he so wished, walk away, and pretend it never happened. But, the child wasn’t just Thor's. It was  _ his _ . It was Loki's, and Loki had no intention of getting rid of it, even if it meant he would have to leave his life of luxury behind simply because he was not letting them take what was his. Even if it meant cutting ties with Thor.

Thor, who accused Loki of whoring around the night he discovered Loki's pregnancy.

His brother had left on a quest with his idiotic friends, for which Loki was grateful for once. It had given Loki time to decide that yes, this was what he wanted. His situation had looked more complicated when Thor was in the palace, seeking pleasure at night and jokingly pointing out to Loki that he looked bloated. After Thor left, Loki realized that Asgardians wouldn't know his child came as a result of sleeping with his brother unless he or Thor told them. 

By the time Thor came back, Loki had almost reached his fifth month. Loki's slim figure made his bump more noticeable than it should be in Loki's opinion, and his seiðr was being drained fast. Loki could no longer sustain a proper glamour and had no choice but to come out with it.

That night, Loki was supporting a book on his protruding stomach and reclining against a few pillows as pain radiated down his back and legs when Thor entered his chambers with a broad smile on his face and an air of triumph that Loki thought was unwarranted. 

“I'm back,” Thor boomed, and Loki chuckled when Thor crawled into bed. Having recognized the lust in Thor's eyes, Loki spread his legs on instinct for Thor to settle between them. They were about to bring their mouths together when Loki remembered a slightly important detail and placed a hand on Thor's chest to push the other back.

Loki scrutinized Thor's frowning face and swallowed thickly before admitting, “I'm with child, Thor.”

Thor's frown morphed into more of a scowl. “What? What do you mean you're with child?” 

Loki thought what he had said was pretty self-explanatory. Thor pushed the forgotten book out of the way as Loki tried to move back and stared down at the mound that was Loki's belly.

Loki's breath hitched. “It's yours, Brother,” he whispered.

Thor shook his head and chuckled. “No, you're not pinning this on me.”

“But it is,” Loki insisted.

Thor shook his head more vigorously. “No, I know not with whom you slept, but you're not holding me responsible.”

Loki clawed at Thor's tunic. “Thor, Brother, you know I've only been yours for a century.”

“No, I don't,” Thor denied. Loki pulled at his brother's tunic as Thor tried to pull away. Thor sneered at him. “Get your hands off me, you little whore.”

Loki did as asked, reeling back as if slapped. He had expected disbelief from Thor, but of all the scenarios Loki had envisioned, he hadn't imagined his brother would react this strongly. 

Tears stung Loki's eyes as he watched Thor leave his chambers, but Loki reminded himself he had prepared for this. All the same, as he cradled his belly, Loki couldn't stop himself from whispering, “It's yours,” at the closed door.

{°•°}

Thor would admit that, in the beginning, when he had tried to get away from whatever his thing with Loki was supposed to be, he'd had other lovers aside from his brother. That had changed. It wasn't fair when Thor knew he would always choose Loki. Thor couldn't remember with precision the last time he had lost himself in pleasure with someone that wasn't Loki. His brother, however, still offered himself to whomever caught his fancy that day. Thor told himself he didn't care. Loki was free to bed whomever he wished, for they had never agreed to be exclusive. And yet, when Thor saw his brother leave with some stranger, the itch to reclaim Loki was unbearable.

It should have been a warning sign for Thor that something was amiss when Loki stopped initiating their encounters and insisted Thor be gentle with him, something that Loki had never requested before. Quite the opposite, actually. Thor had feared his brother was losing interest in him, but if that had been the case, Thor didn't doubt that Loki would have made it clear as day. That hadn't been the most reassuring. Thor wanted Loki to be his and no one else's, but it was no secret to Thor that that desire was what made Loki discard people as if they were nothing more than old, worn clothes. And yet, when Thor first noticed Loki's bloated stomach, Thor couldn't help but think that if Loki's belly were to swell with his seed, at least one part of his brother would be his.

It was deprived of him to wish to make a child with his brother, Thor knew. To imagine Loki growing fat with his child, so he could stack his claim above the rest. Nonetheless, it was an idea Thor couldn't stop toying with during his quest. Thor's friends had remarked that he had been distracted, and it was true. Thor hadn't been able to take his mind away from Loki. From the thought that his brother was letting himself be taken by some lowly guard. That if he had gotten Loki with child, he wouldn't have to worry about such things. That despite the interest it sparked in him, Loki would never be able to give him a child.

It was a lost cause.

They were brothers. Even if Loki agreed to give Thor a child, Asgard would never accept it. Just the fact that they had slept together would be enough to disown both of them. Thor would have to content himself with their continued arrangement for as long as it could last.

It didn't mean Thor had thought about it for long. It was a recent development, something that occurred to Thor a couple months ago when for whatever reason his brother's abdomen wasn't as flat as it used to be (and Thor should have known then that Loki was pregnant). It wouldn't do Thor any good to get a child from his brother, anyway. Their illegitimate child would never get a chance to be Thor's heir, if it even had anything to inherit. Loki would never be Thor's and Thor would never be Loki's. Not in the way Thor wanted: as more than brothers, more than forbidden lovers. Thor had always known that.

Thor had been looking forward to seeing Loki again after returning to Asgard. Now that Thor was back, he would be able to ensure Loki had only time for him and to remind his brother of why he kept coming back to Thor, and so he entered Loki's chamber with one of his beaming smiles, confident that he would wash away the stench of whomever had dared to touch his brother. Loki readily spread his legs for him, and Thor thought that was invitation enough. But apparently not. Loki pushed him back, and Thor conceded, looking down at Loki with a frown.

Fear crossed Loki's face, and he gulped. Whatever it was, it must be of grave importance. His brother never hesitated. But then, the words that Thor thought he would never be able to hear from Loki came out of his brother's mouth: “I'm with child, Thor.” 

Thor's pulse raced. That couldn't be. Loki would never permit someone to get a child on him. His jokes about his brother's stomach came back to haunt Thor. Loki tried to pull back from Thor as Thor's eyes roamed his body, and Thor's temper sparked. Thor pushed away what was obscuring his view of Loki's abdomen with no amount of gentility.

Loki's whisper—“It's yours, Brother”—made Thor's blood boil. If Loki's bastard were truly his, Thor would have known of it long before Loki's skin began to be pulled taut. Loki's insistence that the bastard was his was a mockery of Thor's dream, as if Loki knew Thor had been wishing for a child from him and was mocking Thor for it. 

“No, I know not with whom you slept, but you're not holding me responsible.”

“Thor, Brother, you know I've only been yours for a century.”

If Loki had remained faithful to him, he would be clutching at him for a completely different reason, Thor thought, because what Thor knew very well was that Loki had not stopped his dalliances even though Thor had dedicated all his attention to his brother for centuries. It was audacious of Loki to claim differently when Thor had seen him leave with an ambassador from Álfheimr at the last feast. For all Thor knew, the child growing inside his brother was just that ambassador’s. The hands that Thor had praised countless times in the past for their skill and grace aroused revulsion in him as they tried to keep him there, so close to the womb where only Thor's children should be allowed to grow. “Get your hands off me, you little whore.”

Loki recoiled from Thor, and Thor's eyes widened. He hadn't meant that. Those words were never supposed to leave his mouth. Norns alone knew Thor loved his brother too much to ever think of Loki in such a way. Thor resented Loki for sleeping with whomever he pleased, and Thor would never forgive Loki's transgression, but Thor could not for a moment think of Loki as a… as a  _ whore _ .

Thor wasn't like the others.

Loki's face was turned sideways, raven hair falling like curtains around his face, as if Thor had dared raise a hand against his porcelain skin. For a moment, Thor was tempted to caress his brother's cheek, but then his eyes strayed to Loki's bulging stomach, and Thor remembered how they had gotten here. Loki's eyes bore into the back of his head as he left his brother's chambers. Heat crept up his neck and face. His turbulent mind was screaming at Thor to go back, but it was Loki who tore them apart.

That night, Thor shifted around in his too large bed, sheets tangling with his limbs, as his hand reached for a body that was not there.


	2. Chapter 2

_ He wasn't a coward. Loki wasn't scared of monsters lurking under his bed or of Jötnar waiting to eat him. Those were not the reasons why the raven-haired boy tiptoed through the golden palace’s halls in the dead of night, body pressed against the gilded walls as the hissing wind wormed its way through whatever crack it could find, trembling hand held out in search of his brother's chambers. It was the cold. The crippling, bone-chilling cold. The cold that no blanket, no quilt, no fur could cure. It was not inside his head, much less was Loki inventing stories, so he could scuttle into his parents’ chambers. They didn't have to look at Loki as if he were a liar, as if he should be exempt from the cold. If they went to the boy's chambers, they'd see that it was cold in there. But Thor understood.  _

_ His brother understood.  _

_ Thor's door was pushed open just far enough for Loki to scurry into the room. The path to his brother's bed was threaded with light steps, slumped shoulders, and fidgeting hands. Loki placed a knee on the bed and used both hands to shake his brother by the shoulder. “Thor. Thor, move over.” _

_ Thor pulled the quilt over his head, his response coming out muffled. “Go away, Loki.” _

_ Loki sat on the bed's edge. “I'm cold, Brother.” _

_ Thor groaned, rolled over, and raised the quilt with an arm. Loki hurried to get into the bed and settled against his brother's chest. Thor let his arm fall over Loki and, fogged by sleep, mumbled, “You can't keep coming here.” _

_ “Why not?” _

_ “You know why.” _

_ Loki frowned. “Since when do you care about what Father and Mother say?” _

_ “Let me sleep or go away.” _

_ Loki huffed, burying deeper into Thor's side. His brother was radiating warmth that didn't take long to make Loki squirm in an attempt to get away, to find a cooler spot on the bed, but Thor's voice and firm grip on him stopped Loki on his tracks.  _

_ “When we grow up, you will still come here, won't you?” Thor whispered.  _

_ “Of course,” Loki responded haughtily. _

_ “You'll stay with me? Like Mother and Father?” _

_ “Sure.” _

_ Thor pulled himself up by the elbows and kissed Loki's forehead. One of the many innocent kisses they had shared as children.  _

_ “We'll be together forever.” _

~°•°~

Loki might have been right about his brother's reaction, but not about Odin and Frigga's. Thor hadn't hesitated to reject their child, and after last night's experience, Loki thought the best thing he could do was to get this over with as soon as possible.

It happened at breakfast. Loki's glamour was back in place the moment he stepped out of his chambers. Not long after entering the Great Hall, Thor's eyes were traveling up and down Loki's body, searching for signs of the child Loki could tell his brother resented. Loki's hand twitched with the urge to cover his abdomen from Thor's view. 

During their meal, Thor joked, talked, and pushed food into Loki's plate as he would on any other day until Loki slammed his hands on the table and pushed his chair back. Thor's hand froze in midair where it had been in the process of transferring more food into Loki's plate, and his father's cutlery clinked as it was set on his plate. Loki drew in a long breath before repeating the words that had destroyed his more intimate relationship with his brother: “I'm with child.”

“We will discuss this after we have finished our meal,” his father responded before resuming his breakfast, gesturing to the rest of them to do the same.

Loki gaped, eyes glistening as if all the tears that had burnt tracks down his cheeks the night before were not enough. Their indifference… Was it possible that they already knew? That Loki had not been as meticulous as he had thought and his family had been humoring him during all these long months? Or had, perhaps, his brother informed them of his state? Yes, it all made sense now. Why Thor was treating Loki with brotherly affection, like nothing had changed between them when mere hours ago Thor had called Loki a whore and looked upon him with disgust. As the cold metal of the cutlery pushed into his skin, Loki hoped his misfortune was enough to satisfy Thor, who apparently didn't realize Loki was aware of every look sent his way. It was torture. Plunging in the knife and slowly slicing down the length of his body, their eyes glinting with curiosity of when he would break.

Loki's leg jerked when Thor placed a calloused hand on his knee. What was Thor playing at?

The silent walk to his father's private study was not a pleasant one, just like the conversation that lay ahead on them. Loki walked past his father's impassive mask keeping guard at the door and sat in the chair he usually occupied when called to his father's study. Loki seemed to be in a staring contest with his father's calculating gaze until Loki was forced to look away by his mother's disappointed face coming into view. Loki gripped the arms of his chair to prevent himself from doing anything that could give away his feelings on his circumstances.

“We can work around this,” his mother murmured.

His father nodded to himself. “Yes, there are alternatives.”

“Such as?” Loki asked with a curl to his lips.

His mother shook herself from her thoughts. “You're not obliged to go through with the pregnancy, Loki.”

Loki let out a harsh breath. “What?” Loki had imagined his father would suggest it, but never his mother. This was precisely what Loki told himself he wouldn't do, and, anyway… “I think it is a bit late for that.”

His mother frowned. “Why would it be too late?”

Thor, whom Loki had forgotten entered the study with them, shifted on his feet as their mother knelt in front of Loki and forced him to let go of the armrests to clasp Loki's hands within her own. Loki shook his head as his mother tried to explain why it was alright to go with their plan of action, that no-one needed to know.

“You don't understand,” Loki said.

“What am I not understanding?” his mother asked with a sweetness bordering on exasperation.

Loki breathed in deeply, fighting the urge to cover his stomach as a green shimmer ran through his body, leaving his red eyes and paler-than-usual face for all to see, but, more importantly, putting his bulging belly on display. “I have been pregnant for five months,” Loki told his wide-eyed mother. His voice, which never wavered, threatened to fail him now.

Flesh hitting wood made Loki jolt upright in his seat and jerk his hands out of his mother's grip. His father glared, grinding his teeth. “The sire, Loki. Give me the name of the sire.”

Thor took an aborted step forward than to anyone but Loki would look like the protection of an older brother, but Loki did know better. Thor's eyes, directed at Loki, were pleading, and Loki didn't doubt Thor feared Loki would utter his name, claiming Thor as the father of his child once more. Oh, and how wonderful it would be to bring the golden son down with him, the disgrace. But, no. It wouldn't benefit Loki in any way. They couldn't marry him off to Thor as they would do if the sire were any other man. It would only give his parents more reasons to convince him to get rid of the child. After all, Loki wasn't ignorant to the reason why incest had lost popularity. 

“I know not,” Loki said.

Thor sighed, covering his face with his hands.

“This is no time to be stubborn. Out with it, boy!”

“I can't even recall his face.” And Loki wished it were true.

His father gripped the oak table with enough strength to turn his knuckles white. “I trust you're aware of what will happen if you don't give me a name?”

Loki placed a hand over the curve of his belly. He'd prepared for this, though, if he was honest, he'd hoped Thor would have come around by then. “I would think so.”

His mother grasped his other hand. “Loki, darling, just give your father a name.”

Loki refused. Perhaps this would be enough for his brother.

“Out,” his father growled. “I want you gone by the morrow. Go live with the wretch to whom you submitted.”

But, Loki wasn't disowned, nor was he forced to leave the palace despite the threats that were thrown around. On the contrary, Loki was confined to the palace with the occasional visit to his mother's garden, as decreed by the king in front of Loki's gaping face after forcing his way into Loki's chamber. Loki's punishment—or rather his child's—was not the customary abandonment, but the knowledge that his child would never get a chance to inherit a single thing from him no matter what Loki did. Like any other child born out of wedlock, Loki's would be ineligible to inherit. Whatever Loki managed to achieve with his bastard trailing behind him would belong to Thor and, subsequently, any children he might produce. 

After recovering from his shock, Loki was on the verge of laughing into hysteria. It was the most ridiculous thing Loki had ever heard, almost as ridiculous as thinking he would be free of his brother's presence. Asgard would crumble without Loki whispering his honeyed words in Thor's ears, and his parents knew it. They also knew they couldn't lose one of the most powerful mages in the Nine Realms. Of course they would prefer to put up with Loki's child than to let Loki leave.

Loki hung his head in his hands. Why did he think informing his parents was a good idea? Because he didn’t wish to worry his mother by vanishing into thin air? Loki could have been in another realm by now if he had just taken his leave. But, at the end of the day, Loki's true punishment was having to serve Thor's other children whilst the one Loki had produced for his brother was treated as nothing more than a servant of his half-siblings. Loki's blood boiled, his anger only held back by the panic that his parents’ suspicions of his relationship with his brother was what made his father go back on his word. Why force Loki to stay instead of forcing him to leave like any normal person?

Loki's pregnancy seemed to bring him more shame than it did his family, who, after a week and with the exception of his mother, had no trouble ignoring his pregnant state. Laying in bed, Loki's heart had leapt to his throat the first time his brother returned to him during the night after his confession, just to plummet into his stomach when Thor dropped a mountain of papers on Loki's desk. They appraised each other, Thor studying the changes forced upon his body as Loki rubbed his child-swollen belly, wondering whether or not he should open for Thor. Chest rising and falling with little hitching breaths, Loki decided to part his legs thinking it was what his brother was waiting for. 

Thor snorted in Loki's direction but complied.

They didn't speak to each other after that night, even though Thor continued to go in and out of Loki's quarters regularly. Loki didn't want to hear it. Anything. Whatever it was Thor had to say. 

The guards who had once raffled off Loki between themselves as Loki raffled them in turn with a cup of wine held up to his lips to hide his smirk had no quarrel with approaching Loki in the halls, caging him against the wall, and placing a heavy hand over the place where Loki's child rested before asking, “Sure it isn't mine, princess?” with a smirk of their own. 

Loki thought their little game was over after he almost clawed out an eye. But then, the game changed.

It was one of the days Loki was allowed to visit his mother's garden. The humid air of Asgard’s afternoon made Loki's clothes cling to his sweaty skin and the soft breeze of late summer messed with the curls framing his face. The thought of going back to his chambers was pushed away in favor of curling his hands into the grass and pulling it gently. Loki sighed. In retrospect, sitting on the ground, head resting against a tree trunk, wasn't one of his brightest ideas. Loki doubted he could begin the walk back to the palace even if he wanted. In any case, there was no need to do so just yet. Having the garden all too himself was an uncommon occurrence, so why not enjoy it a little longer? Loki imagined he would be bed bound soon enough with how heavy the child was getting, so, yes, Loki would enjoy this for…

“My prince?”

Loki groaned.

“Your presence is being requested.”

“You can tell whoever requests my presence to come look for me here.”

“…It's urgent, my prince.”

Loki's hands clenched, and he yanked a few strands of grass, sprinkling them over his pants as a little boy would. Cupping his belly, Loki huffed as he pulled himself to his feet before snapping at the guard who had disturbed him. “Lead the way then!”

The guard gave a curt nod and turned to guide Loki through the palace’s corridors. His swollen feet and two well-aimed kicks to his ribs didn't take long to make Loki snappish again. Loki couldn't help but notice that the guard had neglected to mention who was asking for him or where they were headed. He was ready to point out as much when his back hit a wall, making him wince. His arms were pinned over his head, and Loki arched an eyebrow at the guard staring transfixed at his bump.

“Yes, I am quite sure it isn't yours.” The guard's head snapped up to Loki's face. “As a matter of fact, I-"

Loki was silenced by the guard crashing his lips against his, seeking entrance into Loki's mouth, which Loki refused to give. The guard pushed his body flush against Loki's, making Loki's eyes widen. This was the farthest a guard had dared to go during the last months. None of them had tried to kiss him, much less rut against him.

A voice rang through the otherwise empty corridor. “What do you think you're doing?”

_ Thor _ , Loki's mind supplied with a flicker of panic, tangled with relief.

“Get away from my brother!”

The guard did so with not a second more of delay, turning the corner in a sprint.

“Thor.” Loki swallowed thickly. “I swear that I-"

Thor's lips drew back in a snarl and his finger pointed at the corner where the guard had disappeared while his other hand gestured towards Loki's middle. “You claim to carry my child and yet  _ this _ is what you do with your time?”

Loki's eyes blazed, molten anger rolling through him. “Oh, so it's  _ your _ child now?”

Thor stormed towards Loki, pinning him in the same way the guard had. “Only I get to do this.”

Loki sneered. “Get your hands off me.”

“No.”

Changing tactics, opting instead for something Thor might even find pleasing, Loki arched forward and whispered in Thor's ear. “Careful, Brother. You don't want people to see you be tainted by this whore.”

Thor ground his jaw but released Loki, glaring at him as he left the scene.

Loki raked his fingers through his hair as he walked, one hand firmly pressed against his lower belly. How dare Thor call Loki's child his? Thor was unbelievable. The child was Loki's and only Loki's. Thor had made that clear from the beginning. Why change his mind now? Because some stranger was about to fuck Loki against the wall? That was none of Thor’s business. His brother should know that he had no say in Loki's sex life. Not since Thor called Loki a whore. All was made worse by the knowledge that everything Loki obtained would go to whatever get Thor had with whatever shallow woman he would take as his wife, not to his own child.

That night, Loki opted to skip dinner, going straight to bed even though hunger gnawed at him, but it could not hope to overcome his sorrow. Loki couldn't stand to look at his brother at the moment. Despite the sharp pain radiating through his body, and the child wiggling within the cramped confines of his womb, sleep claimed him. He managed to sleep until a heavy weight settled beside him on the bed, drawing a groan from Loki as he struggled to level himself up from the bed.

“Relax, Loki.”

Loki froze. This wasn’t what he had expected. “What are you doing here, Thor?”

“I was cold.”

Loki chuckled sleepily as he curled on his side, nuzzling his cheek against his pillow. “You should know by now that my room is colder.”

“Not at all,” Thor murmured. He slipped under the quilt and pulled Loki’s back against his chest. That was alright with Loki until Thor’s hand wandered down his body, stopping to spread his fingers over the curve of his belly. Possessive.

Loki sucked in a sharp breath, becoming more awake by the moment. “What are you doing, Thor?”

In response, his brother buried his face in his hair and pressed a growing erection to his backside.


	3. Chapter 3

_The wet towel hit his face with a pang of relief. The sun was scorching on his skin, beads of sweat clinging to him, his muscles burning with exhaustion. Dust stuck to Thor's clothing as much as it stuck to his mouth, dry with thirst. Thor groaned as he was forced to soak the towel into cold water once more before slapping it on his skin. As much as he would like to, Thor couldn’t stop now. His first tournament was fast approaching, and it could not end on anything else than his victory. Thor would not disappoint his father. Thor would prove to his father that choosing Thor to represent their house had not been a mistake. Thor would make his father proud._

_“My, aren't we excited?”_

_Thor's face broke into a smile. “Loki!”_

_Loki crossed his arms over his chest and kicked the ground. “Who else?”_

_Thor walked towards him with arms outstretched._

_Loki glared at him. “Don't you dare touch me.” Thor let his arms fall to his side as his smile collapsed. Loki scoffed. “Anyone would think you haven't seen me in ages.”_

_“It's been long enough,” Thor said._

_Long enough since Thor was chosen as his father's champion. Long enough since it was determined that, despite being of age, Loki's body would not be able to stand against the other competitors’ brute strength. His brother would sooner collapse from heat stroke than from a well-aimed blow. Thor, within the safety of his mind, would admit that the only problem he saw was Loki's hurt pride. And don't get him wrong. Thor knew his brother. Loki wasn't interested in battling as a sport. His brother only presented himself to training out of obligation and because he could see the usefulness of it. The true problem was that the “inadequacies” of Loki's body had been pointed out to their father even though Loki had not expressed interest in the upcoming tournament. Loki admitted as much._

_“Clean yourself. Then, you may touch me.”_

_Thor bobbed his head and went back to washing the sweat out of his skin, his brother's emerald gaze following his movements. “You know Father doesn't favor me for being bulky, do you not?”_

_Loki snorted. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”_

_Thor glanced sideways at Loki. “Do you not?”_

_“Of course.” Loki directed his gaze downward. “Your golden hair also has a hand in that.”_

_“Loki,” Thor complained._

_Loki hummed. “I suppose we could add your being his first-born to the list.” Thor made a noise of protest, but Loki shushed him with a dismissive wave of his hand. “All parents have a favorite child, Brother. I have made peace with the fact that I will never be mine's.”_

_Thor tossed the towel aside and strode to envelop Loki in his arms. Loki made disgusted sounds as he tried to get away. “You never tire, do you?” Thor asked._

_Loki snapped at him and pushed against Thor's chest. “Oh, let's face it! My confounded body is nothing more than another disgrace.”_

_Thor squeezed him. “You will find something right for you.”_

_Loki stopped struggling and dropped his forehead against Thor’s chest. “I already have.”_

~°•°~

Thor entered the Great Hall and took in the sight before him. People's chatter was loud enough to strain the ear as hearty plates went from one hand to another and back. There were no hands covering whispering mouths, however. No talk of his brother. Or of himself, for that matter. Last night seemed like the product of a fevered mind, or of a cruel joke. A very cruel joke. And with Loki sporting a body as slender and immaculate as always, Thor couldn't stop himself from staring.

_Act normal, you fool._

It took Thor a minute longer than usual to react to his brother's presence, to answer Loki's clipped greeting. He muttered something back, Thor was sure. Something as stupid as a "good morning." Something that might be the reason why Loki was rubbing his temples as if suffering from a particularly bothersome headache, one possibly named "Thor."

He shook his head, snapping himself back to the present moment while his mother inquired if Loki had been taking the tea she procured for his headaches. Not Thor's fault, then. Impossible for it to be his fault considering he had been gone for weeks.

Thor's eyes drifted down to Loki's abdomen and darted back to his face after a second, lest he be discovered staring. With a low huff, he began to fill Loki's plate with food and, at his father's prompting, spoke of his quest, which, truthfully, had only been an excuse to get away from the palace and his duties. 

When Loki slammed his hands on the table, Thor froze, mouth clicking shut. Had he misunderstood what was expected of him? Nothing of the sort. Instead, Loki blurted out the news of his pregnancy for all to hear, and Thor was sure his brother and father would move towards a shouting match. His father, however, uttered a simple dismissal that made Loki duck his head in what Thor was willing to bet was indignation. 

Last night had been quite real, then. Certainly not a joke. 

Thor's hand found his brother's knee. It wasn't a conscious movement, not something Thor did to get on Loki's nerves. It was what Thor always did when Loki and their father butted heads. Thor offered comfort. As little as it was worth, it was what Thor was supposed to do, wasn't it?

Thor entered his father's private study with his only expectation being that this would be his final goodbye with Loki. Even if both of them were disowned for loving each other as more than brothers, Thor didn't dare hope that Loki would let him stay by his side.

“We can work around this,” his mother said. 

His father agreed, “Yes, there are alternatives.”

"Such as?"

“You're not obliged to go through with the pregnancy, Loki.”

Thor frowned at his mother's insinuation. Loki wouldn't abandon his child, and Thor wasn't so sure he could live with the knowledge that Loki's child would be somewhere out there. Not that his opinion mattered. 

But putting the child up for adoption wasn't what his mother had suggested, as Thor initially thought. Their solution was to rip his child from Loki's delicate body. No, not Thor's. Loki's. Loki's, and someone else's, Thor reminded himself. But, it didn't matter. That wasn't happening. It wasn't something Thor should worry about. Loki was too far along for that to be a possibility. The child would live.

As his mother knelt in front of Loki, Thor's pulse quickened. It hadn't occurred to Thor, not in a coherent way, that his parents were not aware of the child, and how stupid was that? The realization that his parents didn't know Loki was at least halfway through his pregnancy didn't slam into Thor until his mother tried to convince Loki to abort their child. 

No, not theirs. Just Loki's.

Thor massaged his temples.

His father commanded, “The sire, Loki. Give me the name of the sire.”

Thor startled to attention. What would his brother say? Would Loki say Thor's name? Should Thor step up as the father? Thor didn't know. Did Loki even want Thor to claim the child? After last night… Thor didn't think he had the right. 

Thor's pleading gaze met Loki's hardened one. _Please tell me what to do._

“I know not,” Loki said.

Thor deflated, shoulders slumping as he hid his face in his hands. No, of course Loki didn't want Thor to claim the child. Not after Thor called him a whore.

“I want you gone by the morrow. Go live with the wretch to whom you submitted,” his father said.

Loki rose to his feet, and Thor followed the movement of Loki's hand sliding over their child. 

Thor groaned and shook his head. Why couldn't he make up his mind already?

“Loki,” Thor whispered as his brother passed him on his way out the door. 

Loki jerked his arm away, ensuring Thor couldn't grab his wrist and sending a heated glare Thor's way. But no. Loki couldn't leave. He was Thor's little brother. Thor was supposed to keep him safe.

“What about you, Thor?” his father asked. “Have you, perhaps, impregnated some young maiden?”

Thor clenched his fists on his pants as the door closed behind his brother. “Not precisely,” he replied. His father's lip thinned, but all Thor could think about was how much his brother would hate him for this. “I’m the wretch who got Loki pregnant.”

His father looked about ready to throttle him, but his mother sighed, sat in the chair Loki had previously occupied, and waved his father off.

“This is no news, Odin. We always suspected this would happen."

Thor gaped at his mother. There was no way they could have known. They had been far too careful. “How?”

His father's shoulders sagged. “The lingering looks for one.”

Thor's face heated. Perhaps he had been too generous in his worship of Loki's body. “And yet you let it happen,” he accused.

“There was no reason to stop it,” his mother said.

“No reason to stop it?” Thor asked in disbelief. “I made a child with my brother!” And Thor had wanted it so badly, it was perverted. “What if the child comes out deformed?” Oh gods, Thor hadn't thought about that before. Had Loki even considered that possibility? “And I called… I called Loki a whore.”

His mother rose to her feet and took a step forward, but Thor barely registered the movement. “Thor, darling, you need to breathe.”

“Loki is not your brother by blood.”

Thor's head snapped to his father. “What?”

“He is a Jötunn, Thor. Not Æsir like the rest of us.”

“What?” It seemed that was the only word Thor's brain could formulate.

His father sighed, collapsing in his chair. “The child should not be born with any deformities. When I brought Loki to Asgard, your mother and I hoped we would be able to marry you to each other.”

“But then you confused Loki with a brother,” his mother explained. “I didn't have the heart to take away from you the sibling I always wished I could have given you. But I never stopped hoping.”

Excitement flushed through Thor's veins. This changed so much. “So, I can claim Loki's child as my heir?”

“No,” his father responded.

Thor's hands clenched again. “Why not? You said-"

“I said no,” his father repeated sternly. “Loki must learn accountability. He should have admitted the child is yours.”

Thor lowered his head, cheeks flushing with shame. “That's because I denied our child.”

“I care not. Until Loki does not admit it, you will not claim the child as your own, understood?”

“But what if he leaves, Father?”

His father stood from his chair and spread his arms wide. “Look around you, boy. We live in a palace made of gold. What makes you think Loki would leave this behind?”

“And I imagine he does not wish to give birth alone, or he would have left already,” his mother added with a thoughtful frown.

His father nodded absently. “You will wait until Loki comes to us.”

Thor frowned. “Loki will not do that. Not after how I have treated him.”

“Then, he will need an incentive, will he not?”

An incentive Thor did not agree with. If anything, it seemed to have pushed his brother further away from him. At the moment, Thor could not see the wise king he had believed his father to be, though he understood what his father was thinking. That if Loki’s child was unable to inherit and Loki produced no more children, whatever Loki achieved would go to his next of kin, which would eventually mean Thor's children, and his brother would confess who the father of his child was in order to secure his child his rightful place. Thor could not see Loki doing that. His brother was by far the most prideful creature Thor had ever met. Loki would never do that, and Thor was all too aware that it was his fault. Perhaps, if he found a way to apologize…

Thor suspected the only reason Loki still allowed Thor to fill his plate was due to centuries of tradition. At least that Thor could do for his brother with Loki avoiding him at every corner. But Thor's love for his brother only seemed to grow, becoming consuming even, as he was forced to watch Loki's body change to accommodate their growing child from a distance. The way Loki caressed his belly, the way he whispered to the child within when he thought nobody was near… it was a tenderness Loki had never offered Thor.

Paperwork: the excuse Thor used to visit his brother. Since their youth, Loki had feared Thor would become distracted and lose interest in his duties if not properly motivated, and, although Thor had initially found the veiled insult offensive, he'd learnt to stop protesting early on. Surely, if Thor came to Loki with such an old excuse, he wouldn't be refused?

Thor almost couldn't believe it when his brother's door opened for him. He had expected Loki to guard the place against him, as Loki did with everyone else, but Thor wasted no time dwelling in such mysteries, crossing the distance to Loki's desk, where his galloping heart had Thor rooted to the spot. It was the first time Thor was alone with his brother since coming back to Asgard. No one would be there to listen raptly at every word exchanged between them. No need to keep his eyes in check. Thor didn't know how to proceed, what would worsen things between them. Loki was rubbing his stomach, and, as Thor often did when he glimpsed his brother shift on his seat or wince before pressing a hand to his belly, Thor wondered if their child was moving. 

Yet, when Loki spread his legs with a hesitation that had never been there before, Thor couldn't hold back his snort. Was that all Loki thought Thor wanted from him? If that was the case, then Thor had dug himself a deeper hole than he had thought.

Loki pursed his lips and looked away. “My apologies. I don't know what I was thinking.”

“Loki, I-"

Loki shook his head. “It's quite alright. I understand.”

Thor huffed. “If you would just listen.”

“Same goes for you.”

With tentative steps, 

Thor walked to sit on the edge of the bed. “You have not given me the chance to say I'm sorry.”

Loki lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. “For what?”

“That night, Loki, I… I didn't mean what I said.”

“What night?” Loki asked with feigned disinterest. “The night you called me a whore? If that is how you see me, Thor, I'm afraid I cannot change that.”

Like he did on the night in question, Thor crawled closer to his brother, settling between Loki’s spread legs. “I didn't mean it, Loki. I didn't mean any of it.” Thor brushed his fingertips over Loki's bump. “About the child-"

“Not there.”

Thor's head snapped to meet his brother's glazed eyes. “Loki, I have-"

“You may touch me anywhere you want, but my belly is off-limits. That is my condition.”

Thor, who didn't wish to anger Loki any further, complied with his brother's demand and snapped his mouth shut.

The day they found out that a group of guards had been crowding Loki in the corridors, that they had dared to place their dirty hands on Loki (on his belly, no less), thunder rolled in the distance. Thor burnt with the knowledge that they had probably felt his child move inside Loki when not even he had been granted that privilege. Thor's chair flew backwards as he stood up and called Mjölnir to his hand, ready to pummel the trespassers’ skulls into the ground, only to be held back by his mother. Loki could solve it himself, she assured, and if he had not come to them, then help would not be appreciated. 

Thor sat back down with slumped shoulders. He supposed that if Loki could barely stand his presence, then his intervention would be rather unwelcome.

That proved to be true when Thor couldn't stop himself from coming between a guard and his brother. Thor's first reaction had been to stop dead in his tracks, for Loki had promised Thor that this time they would be exclusive, that there would be no one between them, and Thor had itched to tell Loki their father's condition before being silenced each and every time. Silenced like Loki was now being silenced by someone that wasn't Thor. 

It ended in an argument, of course. Despite telling himself he would do as Loki wished, Thor had tried to get a word in with Loki, but, once given the chance, those words proved to not be what Thor had been burning to tell Loki. Instead, Thor said, “You claim to carry my child and yet _this_ is what you do with your time?”

Thor kicked himself mentally, but once one was on the warpath, one was always on the warpath. In retrospect, Thor should have apologized right after that, or after Loki said, “Oh, so it's _your_ child now?” at the latest instead of trying to argue that point with his brother once more. But then again, warpath. 

Nonetheless, Thor knew when he had pushed too far. And, when Loki's breath ghosted over his ear in an obscene whisper, when Loki's belly brushed against his as Loki arched his back off the wall, Thor knew that was the case here.

“Careful, brother. You don't want people to see you be tainted by this whore.”

Thor's grip on Loki's wrists tightened momentarily, but he was quick to let go, jaw clenched as Loki strode away. He was walking on thin ice with his brother again, Thor knew. Perhaps he should have shouted to the world, and thus to anyone that would listen, that it was his child in his brother's belly.

Thor banged his head on the wall after Loki left. 

It seemed he could not stop digging.

That evening, Thor walked to the Great Hall knowing that Loki wouldn't show up to dinner. Predictable, if Thor would ever dare say that about Loki, yet he waited for his father's order to take food to Loki's chambers, which were, of course, bathed in darkness, because, naturally, Loki had gone to bed early. 

As Loki tried to rise from the bed, Thor shushed him and, having left the food tray outside, slipped under the quilts.

“What are you doing here, Thor?”

Thor paused to think about his answer. He could immediately tell Loki the true reason for his visit, or he could enjoy a few minutes of calm beside Loki. His decision, then, was clear. “I was cold.”

And it was true. He was bereft of his brother's company, of a silent presence that could make himself known if he so wished, or a shadow if he so desired, but all was better than being deprived of Loki altogether. Or of the child he carried. Was it too much to ask that, after all the men who had unbidden touched Loki's stomach, he be allowed to feel their child kick?

It was as wonderful a feeling as it was a sight. Pliant flesh beneath his palm, a sharp contour softened by upcoming motherhood. Loki's tongue might remain ever quick, but the tenderness would stay with him too. The child would make sure of that. The child that, through laxity, now swelled Loki's belly, stretching his skin taut as he readied to enter the world. And Thor could imagine it. A small, chubby creature, one he had helped create, nursing at Loki's breast.

Thor had only had his hand pressed to the firm bump housing their child for less than a minute, but he could tell it had become his favourite feeling in the world.

A sharp intake of breath snapped Thor back to the present moment. 

“What are you doing, Thor?”

Thor sighed into his brother's hair. He had thought—hoped, really—that Loki would allow him closure for just a little, that perhaps a shared childhood memory would do the trick. For old time's sake, if nothing else.

He removed his hand from Loki's belly, unintentionally making his desire known to his brother as he moved away. If the tension in Loki's muscles was anything to go by, then Thor had just fallen a couple feet deeper into the hole. 

He stammered, “I'm sorry, Loki. I can't help it, but I assure you, Brother, that's not why I came here.”

Loki sighed. “Why, then?”

“You promised you wouldn't skip any more meals,” Thor mumbled.

“Ugh, why do you even care?”

“You can't keep doing this, Loki. You have to be-” _What? Responsible? For the child?_ Thor swallowed. “I have always cared about your eating habits.”

In the darkness of the room, Thor imagined Loki rolled his eyes.

“I imagine there's food waiting for me outside?” Thor nodded before remembering Loki couldn't see him in the dark and responding in the affirmative. “So bring it in.”

Thor hurried to do so as Loki's witch lights illuminated the room. 

With his brow knitted together, Thor sat on the edge of the bed, as close to Loki as he dared, to watch him eat. He would have to keep a closer watch on his brother, Thor noted briefly, but that wasn't the main concern on his mind. It was his father's stipulation, and what had transpired that afternoon, what troubled Thor the most. 

“I have something I must confess to you.”

“Is that so?” Loki's eyes gleamed. “Well, I have something I must ask of you.”

Thor's breath escaped him in a rush. “Anything.”

“You know I love your company, and you know I don't mind your coming to my chambers.” Thor nodded, but Loki held out a finger. “But, you see, once my child is born, I don't want you anywhere near us.”

Thor's world screeched to a halt.


	4. Chapter 4

Faint breathing filled the dark-bathed room, silence buzzing in his ears. Thor crawled into bed, mindful of where he put his weight as to not wake Loki again, and assumed his previous position, chest pressed against his brother's back. 

For a while, Thor had feared that the night would end with him being kicked out of his brother's chambers, so he nodded along to whatever Loki said without listening. That afternoon had been a mistake, the implicit accusation that Loki had been whoring around hitting too close to home. For both of them. As suggested by their mother, Thor had not pushed Loki, for she had warned Thor that Loki's temper might spark with even more ease than usual, so when Loki declared that he did not want Thor near their child earlier that night, Thor had fought against what his mind urged him to do. This was a passing thing. When Loki was calmer, he would see that Thor's anger had not been directed at him. And it must have worked, for Loki did not ask Thor to leave. Instead, Loki had whined in protest when Thor stood from the bed. 

“Where are you going? I didn't tell you to leave  _ now _ .” Loki had frowned, pushing his food around with his fork. 

“I don't see the point in staying if you do not want me near you or the child.”

A little snort had escaped Loki. “Don't pretend to care for the child now, Brother.” Loki's brow had furrowed further. “We both know what this is about.”

Thor had taken a deep breath, trying not to snap at his brother. Did Loki know, though? Because this hadn't been about possession, or about ownership, or abou whatever twisted idea had planted itself in Loki's mind.

“And you forget, brother dear, that I do not enjoy the smell of food in my bedchamber.” Loki had brought a piece of meat to his mouth and chewed slowly, watching Thor with his puckered brow. 

Thor had relented. It was his duty to ensure that Loki ate enough, and… Thor had the rising suspicion that this was the most he had spoken with his brother in months. 

When Loki had declared he was done and Thor deemed it good enough, Thor had taken the food tray from his brother and left to hand it over to a maid, but not before watching Loki sink back into his collection of pillows and place a hand over his rounded stomach with a contented sigh. 

His brother had looked beautiful like that: splayed out on the bed, raven hair tousled from sleep, pale lips parted, and belly swollen with their child, but ever so stubborn. 

So stubborn. 

When Thor had returned to the room, Loki had gone back to being curled on his side. 

Thor, convinced of Loki's deep sleep, brushed his fingers over his brother's abdomen. No, he didn't believe he would have the chance to feel the child move despite how big Loki had grown. Instead, it was those filthy, vile…

With a sigh, Thor pushed the quilt away from them and hovered his ear over Loki’s stomach. “I wonder what Loki speaks to you about,” he whispered and felt heat rise up to his face. It was the first time Thor spoke to the child within his brother's womb, and if Loki woke, Thor would never live it down. “I have nothing to tell you, unfortunately.” Thor's fingers began stroking the distended skin. “But you're mine, mongrel. Despite the displeasure I have caused your mother-" Thor cut himself off, frowning. “No, perhaps Loki will not let you call him ‘mother.’ ” And then Thor's eyes widened. Could that really have been a poke from inside?

Thor poked back. 

A groan startled Thor and then his head was being pushed away by his brother's hand. 

“Not again, Thor,” Loki mumbled on the verge of sleep and struggled to draw the quilt back over himself. 

Thor hurried to lie back down, heart racing from being caught red-handed, but hand still pressed to Loki's belly. Of course Loki hadn't been as deeply asleep as Thor had thought. 

He was so stubborn.

{°•°}

He placed his quill down on the table, over some report on a magical anomaly he couldn't bring himself to care about. He pushed his chair away from his desk, his fingers dipping to rub small circles on his lower belly—a nervous habit he'd acquired during the last months. He couldn't help it. Not really. People would stare at his midsection, and one of his hands would automatically find its way to his bump. What did he fear? The knowledge was beyond him. Separation was the worst that could happen, yet it was pointless when all knew he bore a child. One that would soon be here. 

The prospect wasn't as exciting as Loki once thought it would be. Norns alone knew what would happen then. 

After his game with the guards—the one that stopped soon after Thor interfered, which Loki couldn't help but resent, for why should Thor's interference be necessary for Loki to enjoy his due respect?—Loki had briefly wondered if some lord would be interested in the position to which the status of Loki's husband would elevate him. Loki had dismissed it, for he knew no lord would be willing to claim the child he carried as his own. Thor hadn't, and the babe was his. Why would a random man do what Thor had been too cowardly to do? Or did his brother truly think Loki had so little dignity? But, even if a lord was interested in entering a marriage with Loki, Loki's child would continue to be a bastard, for none would claim him except Loki. Marrying Loki and claiming his child would prevent any children Loki bore the lord from being named heir, and what lord would want a bastard, Loki's firstborn, as his heir over his own children?

No, this child—Váli, Loki was thinking of naming him—would remain nothing but a bastard, a creature born from a curse if rumours were to be believed.

Sliding down in his chair, Loki lamented, "You could have been a strong heir, my child."

Now, less than a month away from birth, the babe's seiðr pulsed most promisingly along with Loki's own. The kicks, too, had seemed full of promise since Loki first began to distinguish them from gas bubbles. What good was it now, anyway? While Loki suffered over their future, or lack thereof, Thor was somewhere on his latest errand, no doubt extracting sexual gratification from Loki's miserable state—stretched, swollen… fat. 

There was no way around it. 

Loki brushed open his dressing gown, frowning as he trailed his fingertips over the pinkish lines decorating his distended skin. Thor would no doubt call them beautiful if Loki allowed him to fondle his breasts, his belly. The poor child would be traumatised if he could understand the kind of attention he attracted. And Loki… he wasn't quite cured of his vanity despite what his current appearance might indicate. Of course not. He was vain. However, after somehow managing to remind himself that both him and his spawn were doomed at every turn of the corner, Loki was simply too tired to spread ointment on his skin, and shouldn't that mean the end of the world was nigh, Thor had joked? His brother, that oaf Loki couldn't believe he hadn't murdered yet, had offered to do it for him, as if Loki could ever miss the way Thor eyed him.

Idiot.

Loki huffed, his nails digging into his skin by a fraction as he, with a harsher tone, repeated, "You could have been a strong heir."

"He  _ can _ be," Thor corrected, sneaking behind the chair, hands grasping the armrests.

Irritation twisted inside Loki. How had he not heard this blundering idiot come in? He would need to alter his wards as soon as Váli was born. 

The tray of honey cakes he could see from the corner of his eyes hardly did anything to appease his ire. His frustration, by Odin's beard!

"Come to mock me, Brother?"

By the stupid, exasperated sigh above him, Loki knew it was a weak taunt. 

"I brought the pastries you ordered me to get you."

"Then please do refrain from babbling nonsense in my presence."

Thor's grip on the armrests tightened, knuckles soon turning white. Pleasure flickered inside Loki at the sight. His brother's rage was a beautiful thing indeed, making Thor's eyes flash brighter and his features contort most deliciously. Thor might go blow off some steam at the training grounds, but he would be coming back soon enough. 

Soon enough, yes. 

Soon enough, the babe would be born, and Loki might be a skilled liar, but he wasn't taught to go back on his word. He'd made a decision involving Thor's future involvement—impulsively, true, but to be called a whore twice? No—and he intended on following through with it. 

"What has gotten you in such a foul mood?" Thor asked, and the sound of his voice grated on Loki's ears. 

_ You, obviously. Father. The possibly inconsequential anomaly. Mother and her seemingly endless patience. You, again. Sleepless nights. Itchy skin. Extra weight. What else? _

"I'm fine."

The armrests creaked, and then Thor's hands were gone from sight. Ignoring the pacing behind him, Loki reached for a honey cake, stomach grumbling. He hummed in delight after he took a bite, marginally happy that Thor had them cut into small rectangles, rendering utensils unnecessary. 

Such a good thing his mother wasn't around. 

"What else do you want?" Thor demanded. 

"Strawberries?" Loki replied, trying for a sheepish smile as he looked over his shoulder, uttering the first thing that crossed his mind, very well aware that Thor meant what he should do to earn Loki's forgiveness, the liberty to touch his belly. 

At least the maids were getting some needed rest.

Thor stopped pacing and glared at Loki, who couldn't help but shrug. "I thought you enjoyed your little trips to the kitchens. The maids think it is quite gallant of you to bestow these favours upon me."

Loki cocked his head, intently studying his brother as Thor breathed in deeply, right hand twitching for Mjölnir, left somewhere outside Loki's door, for Loki refused to have the accursed hammer inside his chambers. It was terrifyingly easy how Thor's demeanor changed after pausing to take a breath, a calming technique that had never before worked on Thor. Yes, Thor's sudden smile, though clearly forced, was decidedly unsettling. 

"What are you thinking about?" Loki questioned warily before taking another bite of his cake. Distantly, as a few crumbs escaped past his lips and fell down his chin, he thought he ought to control himself better. Loki could bet, however, that the sight of him gorging on sweets filled Thor's heart with the same satisfaction he had been enjoying since childhood. Oh, how Thor loved it when Loki ate everything Thor placed before him. Although Loki had redeveloped a habit of sending Thor around the palace to fetch him things, it was difficult to miss the trays of food strategically placed around his bedchamber.

"I was thinking," Thor mused as he walked towards Loki, turning Loki's chair around by the armrests, not the least bothered by the scraping the action produced, "that I should change my question. Tell me, Loki, what do you need?"

Loki's mouth pulled down in a scowl, partly due to his separation from his treats, as he stared resignedly at the small piece of cake in his hands. He chewed slowly, savouring the rich taste of honey, as he over Thor's question. Was it really that different from what Thor had initially asked?

"I don't know."

Thor caressed Loki's cheek with his thumb, and Loki leaned into the touch. When Thor threaded a hand through Loki's hair, Loki's eyes fluttered close as he relished being petted. Just for a little while, Loki assured himself. And indeed, the lulling effect of Thor's gentle touch was brief, for the child had decided it was time to start moving again, drawing a groan from Loki as one of his jutting limbs—what Loki imagined was a tiny foot—pushed against its confines. Gently, Loki pressed the protuberance, only to be kicked from a different angle.

"Looks cramped in there," Thor noted, voice strangely devoid of the fondness one would expect from a soon-to-be father, of the excitement Loki had come to expect whenever the child's development came up in conversation. How eager Thor had been to touch Loki's belly when Loki told him Váli recognized his voice. A foot had been protruding back then too.

"I'm sure it feels that way, too," Loki agreed, and, trying to escape Thor's disquieting stare, so reminiscent of those of the guards, he pulled his dressing gown close and rose to his feet. "You brought what I asked. Is there something you need?"

Thor reached out with his hand, and Loki didn't need to be a witch to know his brother's intention. Loki's reflexes were also impeccable. Usually. The last incident with a guard was a sore spot for Loki. It was humiliating that someone had managed to catch him unaware.

Loki slapped Thor's hand away, breaking the spell that had fallen upon them. Despite himself, Loki felt pleasure spark deep within him at Thor's hurt expression, at his lips parted with unwarranted shock, after his hand had been but a mere inch away from Loki's belly, that coveted land bursting with the most precious of fruits.

After Thor turned on his heel and strode out of the room, Loki allowed himself a slow exhale, uneasiness still coursing through his veins. He didn't know what Thor wanted, or if Thor even wanted something long-term, something Loki could provide, because their previous—and actual—arrangement wouldn't work out once Váli arrived. Thor would, of course, eventually meet Váli, perhaps when the child was old enough to accompany Loki to court. Before then, the palace was large enough that crossing paths with Thor wouldn't be inevitable. Not for the child, at least. Loki would have to see Thor most days of the week as he performed his duties.

But that was different. That would be in a professional setting, not a personal one. Loki's mind would be unable to trick him into believing that Váli wasn't his burden to bear.

{°•°}

“So goddamn stubborn,” Thor grumbled. Had he mentioned that about his brother before?

Loki glared at him across the room from his place on the bed. His lower lip jutted out in a pout that was adorable enough to appease Thor’s ire. But, making such a comment would not get Thor kicked out; it would get Thor killed. 

“Pigheaded,” Loki retorted.

It was true, though Thor preferred the term "determined," so Thor would never admit it, much less to his brother.

“You are wasting time, I hope you are aware?” Loki tried to comment flippantly. “I will not let you touch me after the child arrives.”

It was a battle of wills, Thor decided then. One that was as external as it was internal. 

On one hand, he had to fight Loki and his renewed efforts to get rid of Thor, and, quite frankly, Thor thought that his supposedly rational brother was not thinking things as thoroughly as he claimed he did. In simpler terms, his brother was an idiot. Perhaps such a comment was what had driven Thor to seek refuge on the other side of Loki’s bedchamber, thanking the Norns that Loki was in no condition to hunt him and without access to his daggers or an equally harmful spell. The bare skin of his arms stung from Loki’s slaps, the ones that had urged him to scramble off the bed. Loki had not given Thor time to collect his discarded shirt, and, despite their situation, Thor’s manhood remained very much interested in their previous activities, though that entailed nothing more than roaming his hands over Loki's soft flesh, rutting against the mattress, and whispering fevered words in Loki's ear.

Loki had been content with that too. Until Thor uttered something he didn't like. Or didn't think possible. Thor wasn't sure.

That was Thor’s other problem. In spite of how many times he talked himself into confessing their father’s condition for allowing him to name Loki’s child as his heir, Thor always pushed it away in favour of more pleasurable activities. It was a perpetual struggle.

“I told you that’s not why I’m here.”

“I, and no-one else, Thor, decide why you are here.”

Thor rolled his eyes. “Loki, be reasonable. Listen-”

Loki clicked his tongue. “I didn’t say you were allowed to speak.”

Thor threw his arms in the air and plucked his courage to retrieve his shirt. Loki made no protest as Thor approached the bed, but that was because Thor was not  _ touching _ the bed, otherwise known as Loki’s holy throne. “See, Brother, that’s where you are wrong. I’m the oldest. You must defer to me.”

Loki arched a brow. “I’m sure older brothers don’t tend to get their little brothers pregnant, do they?”

“Ah, but have you thought that’s because most men lack the ability to bear children?” Thor ducked at the pillow thrown his way, but one didn’t live with Loki for centuries and got stabbed every other day to fear a pillow. “Now that you are calmer, why don’t we discuss how you are going to tell Father that-”

“Get out.”

“ _ Loki _ . Listen.”

“Get  _ out _ , I said. Do you wish to get me banished?”

Thor stared into Loki’s blazing gaze, his own temper rising to match the anger reflected in the emerald orbs. Although he had never gotten as far as today, he was ready to quit. That at least sounded fulfilling, but curse Loki and himself. It was not in his nature to quit. Submitting himself to Loki was nothing new, but Thor had been doing that too often for his liking. Evidently, Loki was beginning to take advantage of his state to make Thor yield on battles he would otherwise win. His brother was pregnant, yes, and Thor did not wish to cause him any more stress, true, but everyone had a limit, and Thor had reached his.

Thor grasped Loki’s ankles and pulled them to prevent Loki from kicking him. His brother squeaked in surprise, and Thor gave another pull, distancing Loki from the headboard, making him fall on his back. Hopefully, with his belly getting in the way most of the time, Loki would not be able to attack him.

“You oaf, what are you doing?” Loki screamed, squirming to sit upright, face flushed with effort.

Guilt flickered inside Thor, but he dismissed it. Their situation was as much Loki’s fault as it was his. Hmm, although, Thor supposed they had not exactly spoken of blame just yet, but it was something that would surely happen in the near future. “You will tell Father the child you carry is mine, and I will let you go. Otherwise, I believe you know I’m capable of keeping you here for as long as it takes.”

Loki shook his head. “I will tell Father nothing except that you are molesting your pregnant brother. Now, let me go before  _ your _ child squishes my organs.”

Now it was Thor’s time to tut. Loki’s cheeks flushed further with anger, and he tried to kick Thor, but Thor had been expecting it. 

Bored, with a strong hint of sleepiness, Thor watched his brother’s struggle, becoming even more bored when Loki pleaded. But, well, Thor did that too.

“Loki, come on, you-”

“Ah,” Loki breathed, one hand flying to grasp his lower belly.

“That won’t work with me,” Thor warned.

“Thor, you idiot, that’s not-”

Loki broke off with a whimper before his body relaxed. He stroked his belly and studied the ceiling, getting lost in his thoughts as if he and Thor hadn’t been arguing seconds ago. Slightly put off at being ignored, Thor rested his head on the edge of the bed. How long could it take before Loki gave in?

Just when Thor was about to cross into the realm of dreaming, Loki commented, “The child is a week overdue.”

“I know,” Thor muttered. That had helped him pick talking over his and Loki's shared pleasure this night, unlike so many before it. It bothered Loki, who always reminded Thor that he would not get a chance to touch him again after the child was born, but Thor doubted that was true. Loki couldn’t shut him out. There were no becauses. Loki just couldn’t. It was stupid. 

“They are getting stronger. Closer, too.”

“What are?”

Panting, Loki pushed himself up by the elbows and dropped a hand on top of his belly. “By the gods, Thor!” he shouted. “The  _ contractions _ . They began  _ hours _ ago.”

Like the idiot Loki always accused him of being, Thor blinked at his brother’s reddened face until his words registered.  _ Hours.  _ Thor whipped his head in the direction of the window. The pinks and oranges had been replaced with pitch-black skies. 

Eyes wide, breath catching in his throat, Thor returned his gaze to Loki, whose face had been drained of all colour.

“Thor,” he rasped, “what am I going to do?”

Thor swallowed, freeing Loki’s ankles. “What do you mean?”

Irritation flashed across Loki’s face, but it was quickly overcome with panic. “I can’t… I can’t actually take care of a child.”

Thor seized his brother’s altered state and climbed into bed to gather Loki into his arms. He pressed a kiss to Loki’s temple, pulling away slowly. “It will be alright.”

“It  _ won’t _ ,” Loki insisted and elbowed Thor when he tried to protest. “You can’t know that.” He sniffled and elbowed Thor once more, albeit more feebly. “I want you gone, but you won’t stop bothering me.”

Thor rolled his eyes, pushing Loki’s bony elbow away from his ribs. “Alright. Now I know you’re lying.”

“Leave me alone, Thor.”

Thor sighed and prepared himself for another half-hour of kicking and shoving, which Loki wasted little time in providing. But then, Loki shuddered and, a few seconds later, pushed one of Thor’s hands between his legs. Thor jerked in surprise when something wet seeped between them, and Loki released his hand. Thor stared at the colourless liquid he didn't want to think about shining on his fingertips, but Loki's smug expression told him all he needed to know. 

“I tried to tell you, didn’t I?” Loki asked, stretching out his limbs, as calm as if he were proving Thor wrong, that the lovely maiden Thor had had his eyes on the entire evening was indeed taken.

Loki yelped when Thor heaved him off the bed, resuming his assault on Thor’s shoulders in his request to be put down. For his life if nothing else, Thor thanked the Norns that Loki’s tunic preserved his modesty as he rushed through the palace’s halls with his brother in his arms.

~°•°~

“Why don’t you look between my legs and tell me what do you see?” Loki suggested sweetly after the fifth time a healer approached Thor to tell him men were not allowed within the birthing chamber. The healer’s mouth set in a hard, thin line, and she walked away, presumably to press complaints against their unusual situation and their disheveled state, which they, due to Loki's pregnancy, could not attribute to a brawl between brothers. “And if my brother knew I was in labor,” Loki called after her, “it is because I told him so.”

Thor chuckled, and Loki graced him with a gentle smile Thor had not seen in ages.

“Do you truly think it is a good idea to anger the healers?”

Loki lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “It’s not my fault they refuse to see what’s obvious. By her logic, I shouldn’t be here either.”

Loki’s smile slipped as his body tensed, and Thor petted his brother’s raven hair as he breathed through another contraction. Once it passed, Loki flopped back against Thor’s chest with a groan. Thor brushed his lips over the skin of Loki’s shoulder and rested his chin there, waiting for Lady Eir to return with their mother.

Thor’s heart settled against his chest with a warm buzz. With Loki cradled in his arms, there was little left to do but thank whatever forces of the universe were responsible for Loki coming to see reason. Loki was yet to give him a form of verbal agreement, but Thor doubted his brother had decided to allow him to be present for their child’s birth if he was still bent on forbidding Thor from seeing the child. What need was there for a child to grow without their father? For Loki to raise their child alone? Absolutely none. Perhaps his mother had been right about the virtues of patience. Had Thor practiced it sooner, it would have saved him from countless arguments with Loki, which was not to say his brother wasn’t also lacking in the patience department. But Thor couldn’t complain at the moment. It seemed Thor’s dream—having a child with his brother—could be made reality after all. There was little else Thor could want. Loki had to first confess the child’s parentage to their father, though.

When their mother bustled through the doors, hair disheveled and face clouded with sleep, Thor found little reasons to move. Unlike the healers, their mother didn’t ask Thor to leave. Instead, she rushed to the bed to ask Loki how he felt, cradling his cheek. Although Loki pressed his cheek against her palm and closed his eyes in contentment, it was Thor’s hand he held as he brought a new life into the world.

Thor’s mistake was not assuming he had won the battle; it was choosing to reassure Loki that everything would be alright, that he was wonderful, instead of tracking the healers’ movements as they cleaned and examined their child. A step away from the bed was all Thor needed to take for another flurry of healers to sweep him out of the chamber. All Thor was allowed was a hurried look over his shoulder as a bundle of blankets was slipped into Loki’s arms and his brother’s exhausted voice muttered, “My, isn't he ugly?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it has practically been a month, for which I feel slightly guilty about since I didn't think it would take me this long to update. Unfortunately, I've been experiencing a stream of unforeseen events, so those things have compromised my focus this last month. That aside, I hope this chapter will be able to provide some degree of enjoyment.

Loki lowered himself to the edge of his bed with the help of his mother, one guiding hand pressed to the small of his back. He craned his neck back and closed his eyes, breathing slowly. His child’s whimpers reached his ears, and his chest—no, his  _ breasts _ —tingled. He hadn’t expected that. One sensation that could be more peculiar than sharing his body to create another, something that he, as far as Loki knew, shouldn't have been able to do. It was, in fact, numbing to think of Váli, a child he himself had named, as his. And Thor's. 

Loki didn't doubt his life would be easier if it had been anyone other than Thor. His own brother. So much for all the talks about duty and honour.

He shut his eyes tighter, trying to ignore the rustling of the wet nurse as she sat on the rocking chair his mother had brought in, preparing to nurse his son. 

Was it wrong of him, to think that a woman would do a better job than he ever could?

This was his trial. Self-imposed, of course. If he could take it, he would give away the child. His mother disagreed as she had never disagreed with him before, but, whatever the result, Loki trusted it would be right. The simple fact that he was thinking of this, and going through with it, was proof enough that he wasn’t capacitated to be a parent. It certainly wouldn’t be Váli’s loss. What would Loki even do with a baby? Especially one that offered no promise?

“Loki, please, what are you doing?” his mother whispered in his ear, using the same pleading tone she employed when reminding him that he had their help: Frigga, Odin, and Thor’s. His  _ brother’s _ as if he weren’t that very same person who got Loki in this dilemma in the first place. And, that wasn’t true. That part about Thor helping him. Even if Loki failed and kept Váli to himself like the selfish man he was, Thor wouldn’t be a part of this. It was enjoyable while it lasted, having Thor canter to his every need, his every want. But Loki made a promise not too dissimilar to the one Thor broke. Sitting under an elm tree in his mother’s garden, caressing the belly nurturing the fruit of their union, Loki promised his child he would relinquish whatever they needed to flourish. That, Loki had known since before informing Thor of his pregnancy, included his brother. Loki knew what awaited them at the end, what keeping Thor close would do to him once Thor rose to his rightful place, and Loki wouldn’t be able to take it. If Loki had doubted his need to cut ties with Thor, such thoughts were dispelled from his mind when a young group of healers whispered about how adorable Thor’s future children would be if Loki’s was any indication and how lucky Sif would be despite the disgrace of having a bastard nephew.

As much as Loki was loath to admit it, something inside cracked because those healers, and every single soul on Asgard, should be fawning over Váli instead of daydreaming about whatever spawn Thor might beget with Sif in the future.

“Stop,” he ordered as Váli’s cries refused to cease. His eyes snapped open, taking in the sight of the woman’s nipple too close to his child’s mouth for comfort.

“My prince?” the woman questioned unsurely.

“I will nurse him myself,” he proclaimed. His mother sagged against him but hurried to help him into a comfortable position before handing Váli to him. Loki groaned, not entirely free of distress, when Váli latched, for Loki could only imagine the grey years ahead of him, the sorrow and the despair, as the full weight of his choices began to set in. What was he supposed to do with a bastard?

“It takes time,” his mother assured and brushed her lips over his forehead.

Loki only nodded, gritting his teeth. For her remarkable perceptiveness, she was being quite oblivious, and Loki did not put her above doing it on purpose. He couldn't care less if knives dug into the soles of his feet with every step he took, but his rather hopeless situation? That was a different matter. Quite the matter, period. 

Freak: a word that hadn't been applied to him in so long Loki had thought it was behind him. Apparently not. See, Váli was not only adorable—though, of course, Váli could never surpass Sif's future children with Thor—but he was also, as put by an old healer, "damn lucky to not be a freak like its mother." Oh, and the commodities with which Váli would be surrounded…

What a lucky bastard!

Loki couldn't believe he had borne Thor a child. How could he have been so stupid?

No matter. Váli was, in the end, solely Loki's. 

After forcing himself to kiss Váli's forehead under his mother's disapproving eye, Loki glanced at the wet nurse, watching as a deep blush spread across her cheeks. “Thank you for coming, but I’m afraid you will not be needed.” The woman’s cheeks reddened further, and his mother sent him a questioning look, one mixed with suspicion and, of course, disapproval. “Would you mind returning in a few months? Six, perhaps?”

The woman shook her head, offered a rushed curtsy, and left with this or that designation. Loki wasn’t paying attention. By that point, he was too immersed in Váli’s suckling to be aware of anything else.

He was stupid. Loki was beginning to see that. He hadn't questioned whether keeping Váli was the right choice before. Why should he do so now?

So, as if he had learnt nothing, Loki debated the same things with himself the next day.

{°•°}

As soon as the door creaked open, Thor was on his feet, moving to meet his mother’s steady pace with long strides of his own. “How are they?” he questioned, his brusque tone more akin to that of a demand.

A feeble smile tugged at the corners of his mother’s lips, dissolved by a soft shake of the head. “As well as can be expected. The child is healthy and Loki on his way to recovery.”

With a tight smile, quite aware of the answer, Thor asked, “He has named the child, has he not?”

His mother nodded and walked to sit in a chair by the window, hands neatly folded in her lap, golden hair gleaming in the sunlight. “Váli. And, judging by your lack of input in the name choice, I’d say you are still not welcome by Loki’s chambers. How could you be? Loki thinks he can hide it from me, but I see how his lips purse every time I mention you”

Thor groaned, running his hands through his hair as he began to pace the length of the room. It was bad enough that Loki had barred him from returning to the Healing Rooms after he was thrown out by the healers for his mother to join forces with Loki now. 

Thor had protested little as he indulged every one of his brother's whims or as the healers finally had their way and kicked him out of the birthing chamber. He had tried to follow his mother's advice to be patient, as if waiting had ever gotten him anywhere. Well, he still was following his mother's advice considering he had not tried to visit Loki again. Last time Thor had tried that, all he had managed to see was a tiny, chubby, dark-haired creature nursing at his brother's breast before Loki said, “I would think I made it clear that I do not want you near us,” and promptly had Thor thrown out again. 

The anger, the indignation and the resentment, had not ebbed since then. 

"I did everything he asked of me and more," Thor said, his strides picking up speed. "I cared for him as much as he would allow me. How is that not worthy of redemption?"

For a moment, his mother remained silent, perhaps lost in her own head as Thor was in his, for his mother’s reply came minutes later, but Thor barely noticed the time wasted, focused instead on the fact that Loki had named their child knowing it was customary for the father to do so.

“I know little of Loki’s history with his past lovers. He has never been very forthcoming, much less on these matters. But that is unnecessary to know. A slight against one’s dignity is not easily forgotten, especially not for one such as Loki.”

Thor scoffed. Although he had stopped doubting the paternity of Loki’s child, he could not claim his insult had been completely unjustified. Loki did tend to sleep around. Everyone knew it. “Mother, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you how many times I have tried to apologise only for Loki to spurn me.”

A little hum that only served to get further under Thor’s skin was Frigga’s response. “I would not grow attached to the child if I were you.”

“You said he was healthy,” Thor accused, freezing mid-stride, prepared to sprint to Loki’s chambers despite being supposed to give Loki time or whatever it was Loki needed.

“And he is,” his mother confirmed. “But I don’t think Loki intends to keep him. He says Váli needs a mother.”

“ _ Loki  _ is his mother,” Thor replied without a second thought, unable to process what his ears had heard. Loki was incapable of abandoning their child, Thor had no doubt of that, yet his mother was also incapable of joking about such things.

His mother’s gaze fell to her hands, her fingers interlaced as she picked on the skin of her palm with the opposite thumb. “I feared something like this would happen when it became clear Loki planned to carry to term. Your brother is too young for this, Thor, and now that rumours of his different biology have spread…” She sighed. “It may be a passing thing, or it may be a thing I’ll need to talk to you father about. For now, Thor, I ask that you do not aggravate Loki further.”

An ugly bark of laughter burst free from Thor’s throat, the undercurrent of guilt momentarily overcome. “Aggravate Loki? If I try to claim the child, it would be all the motivation Loki needs to keep him.”

The almost glare sent his way by his mother of all people was enough to make Thor reconsider his plans.

{°•°}

When his father approached his chambers and informed him of the futility of giving Váli away on what Loki knew was his mother’s behalf, Loki stopped his tests. The babe was too young, but Loki could swear he saw relief flash across the infant’s face when Loki offered him his breast without first passing him off to a prospective wet nurse. However, that relief was quickly overtaken by desperation, as if he hadn’t eaten in ages, and Loki once more regretted this whole affair. 

He was going insane, he knew. Each time a maid entered the room, her gaze fierce and judging despite her servile posture, Loki expected, just slightly, to see his brother having come to inspect their son. But that was not always. Occasionally, in spite of all the reassurances he had received stating otherwise, Loki feared that someone had finally come to relieve him of his disgrace. Why not? Given time, Loki’s pregnancy could become a thing of the past if there was no physical reminder to keep it present in people’s minds, and was that not what Loki wanted? Partly.

Partly, it was.

Then, as if Loki hadn’t set off with a rough start, he feared he would drown Váli in the bath, but his mother simply laughed.

As the months progressed and Váli’s eyes remained a clear blue, Loki admitted to himself, and only to himself, that he missed his brother, for the oaf had not once knocked on his door. That was as pleasing as it was maddening. It meant Thor was respecting his decision for once, yet it also meant Thor didn't care enough about Váli to demand his place in their son's life. Had this been about a hunting trip, Thor would have hauled Loki outside by the elbow ages ago. Loki was reminded of this just about everytime Váli’s face lightened up when he came into view as if Loki were the most wonderful creature in existence, blinking at him with the eyes he had inherited from his father. 

It never failed to make Loki’s heart ache. Not only for himself, but also for his son, who couldn’t dream of knowing all the things of which he was being deprived. That was Loki's burden, his punishment for having brought shame upon their noble house.

Loki thought it was working. 

As courtesy of his paranoia, Loki couldn’t stop himself from sleeping with Váli on his chest despite the crib set next to his bed. It was ridiculous, of course. What did he have to fear? His wards were the best they could be. No one would be able to bypass them and… do what, exactly? Loki didn't know. Rather, he didn't wish to think about what made him uneasy. Before this day, the thought that he could be, or was, paranoid had never crossed Loki's mind. 

And yet, when the first wet nurse his mother brought him returned six months later as agreed, Loki froze, unwilling to leave Váli in arms that weren’t his own. To regain his attention, Váli crawled into his lap and shoved a soft block in his face. Loki accepted the proffered item and kissed Váli’s forehead. As expected, Váli giggled and smacked Loki’s cheeks, forgetting his toy.

“Has it been six months already?” Loki asked, cradling Váli close to his chest as Váli made a game of trying to wiggle out of his grip.

“It has, my prince,” the maid replied, glancing over to her queen.

Loki relaxed his grip before Váli grew frustrated, carefully allowing him to crawl back down to the blanket he had been playing on. Loki's lips quirked up when Váli returned with two more blocks and handed them to him before going in search of more.

“Loki,” his mother called.

Loki huffed. “Can’t it wait another month?”

“Loki, you have duties.”

His face twisted with annoyance, but it slipped away as Váli brought more blocks to pile into a tower, babbling all the while. Sadly, all too soon, his mother began with her excuses again, about how he had essential things to do, to which Loki replied, “Most mothers get a year off, if not more, to do as they please before being called to court. What is another month to you?”

“Those women are married, Loki. You are not.”

He tilted his head to the side, a subtle challenge. “I’m not what? Married, I presume? Because if you mean a woman, I could fix that.”

His mother paused, which meant that, deep down, she meant both. But of course she meant both. If he were a woman, he wouldn’t have even half of his current duties. So much for all that talk about how Váli didn't need a woman for a mother. 

With those thoughts in mind, Loki rose to his feet and straightened himself, ignoring Váli's displeased whimpers at having his most recurrent playmate taken away.

“There’s no need for that. You may have another month,” his mother interrupted, for which Loki was grateful. If Loki was being honest, after all the taunts thrown his way during his pregnancy and formative years, he was not too keen on the idea either.

His mother and the woman left soon after.

As soon as the door closed, Loki grinned and gathered Váli back into his arms, laughing at Váli's indignant shriek.

{°•°}

Every day at dinner, he asked his mother after his brother and child. He had thought, many times, admittedly mostly at night, when Loki was most receptive, of ignoring his mother’s request and seeking out Loki. And he tried it once. Thor tried to visit his brother once only to discover what his mother had truly meant by her request.

Time had not dislodged the idea that Thor needed to stay away from Loki’s head, as Thor found that night after tiring of staring at the ceiling, his bedding awkwardly tangled around his legs after one too many turns, mind fixated on a thousand different interactions. With brusque movements, he threw the quilt off his body and sat on the edge of his bed, shoulders hunched as he contemplated his mother’s latest report.

_ Loki won’t be joining us for at least another month. He wishes to take care of Váli himself despite having already picked a nanny, though I think he is reconsidering now that Váli has become fussy. _

_ He asks after you sometimes,  _ his mother had added after a pause, causing Thor to perk up.  _ But he doesn’t like to dwell on the topic. They are passing inquiries, brushed aside before long. _

_ I’m not sure if he wishes to see you. _

As it turned out, Loki wished to see no one, or so the guards posted outside Loki’s door told Thor. Per Loki’s orders, or so they said, no one was allowed past the door, not even Thor, no matter that they had never batted an eye at Thor’s nightly visits before. And why should they have? It was not their place to question Thor’s motives, much less to deny entrance to the crown prince to anywhere he wished to go, as Thor was prepared to point out, his temper finally having been woken from its long slumber.

The order to stand aside never left the tip of Thor's tongue. 

Perhaps for the first time in his life, or in a long while at the very least, the wariness across from him gave him pause. 

_ Loki never responds well to orders _ , Thor thought, recalling the day Loki had informed their parents of his pregnancy. Thor had stayed silent when he should have not, willing to wait for Loki to tell him what to do. Why should Thor stop now, when he still had a chance to please his brother?  _ Loki will be furious if I enter his chambers,  _ which Thor knew would be the case if he ordered the guards to move, for they would be bound to obey him, his rank having always been higher than Loki's, even more so now that Loki had been "disgraced."

Missing the confused glances thrown his way, Thor spun on his heels and retraced the path back to his own chambers, stroking his beard as he pondered the true meaning of his mother’s request, the slights he had committed against Loki reclaiming their place at the forefront of his mind.

{°•°}

To Loki’s utter surprise, the thing Thor did when he first spotted Loki was walk away. To be precise, Loki could use the fingers of one hand to list off what Thor had done: Thor spotted him, stopped in his tracks, grimaced, changed directions, and walked away. Since Loki now ate his meals alongside Váli in his chambers, Loki and Thor did not cross paths until the first council meeting of the day, or when they entered the throne room to hear the people’s petitions or to watch their father settle disputes, but not even then did Thor offer Loki a word. Not even an inquiry after Váli’s wellbeing.

Loki returned the treatment.

What Loki truly hated to admit was not the hollow feeling in his chest brought upon by their situation, for it was the only outcome his accursed relationship with Thor could have ever had; it was that sitting through a council meeting and pretending to pay attention as his eyelids threatened to slide shut was a very much needed reprieve from Váli, the remainder that Loki had managed to fuck up his life spectacularly.

{°•°}

When he encountered Loki again, in a hallway of all places, there was a split second of disbelief. Why? Well, that might have been because the last time Thor saw his brother, Loki had not deemed him worthy of his attention, had not bothered to lift his gaze from Váli as he informed Thor, quiet dispassionately, that he was unwelcome. And now? Now Loki was standing across from him, jaw moving as if he wanted to say something, and Thor? Thor found that he was in no hurry to hear it, whatever that might be. Actually, Thor had no interest in hearing it. Knowing Loki, it would probably be nothing but a taunt.

That, Thor liked to believe as he walked away, was the end of his disbelief, but, a few hours later, staring at the raised index finger in front of his face, he had to admit that their encounter in the hallway was just a preview.

They had both been called to their father's office. No surprise there, for their father, not trusting Loki had kept himself up to date, had informed Thor of the private meeting they would be holding to update Loki. But the raised finger was a different matter. Loki, while walking up to the door, had looked at anything and everything but Thor until he had no choice but to meet Thor's gaze. On instinct, Thor had opened his mouth—maybe to offer some pleasantry, common decency, what did Loki know?—when Loki held up his index finger, knocking on the door with the hand not commanding Thor to be quiet and proceeding inside the office at their father's muffled order to enter. 

Eventually, the disbelief was dispelled by an influx of indignation. Although Thor was quite familiar with that gesture, it being a thing Loki did when Thor said something displeasing, leaving Loki with a desire to pretend to sleep and nothing more, Loki could not seriously think that everything that was acceptable behind closed doors also applied for the outside. Because this was, in fact, the first time Loki dared silence Thor in a public space. And Thor, like a well trained dog obeying his master, snapped his mouth shut and kept it that way, breaking his silence only to speak of state affairs.

So, yes. After waiting months to see his brother again, Thor found that he, like Loki, desired everything but to be in the other's company. It was quite a mutual feeling. 

The most dumbfounding event, however, came towards the end of the week when, during a council meeting, the report of an elder was interrupted by loud, pitiful wailing and, seconds later, by a disheveled maid coming in through the door unannounced, eyes frantic as they darted across the room. 

Even before Loki jumped to his feet, demanding, “What is the meaning of this?” Thor knew he was finally seeing Váli again, for who else could this child be?

However, before Thor could actually see Váli’s face, or register the accusatory looks both brother and father threw his way as if whatever had happened could possibly be Thor’s fault, Loki had Váli cradled against his chest, Váli’s tiny hiccups muffled on the crook of Loki’s neck. 

“Where’s his nanny?” Loki continued to press as he walked out of the meeting, a stuttering girl trailing behind him.

{°•°}

Loki walked with measured steps towards his chambers. It was still early by his standards, but that was likely not the case for his son. Váli might have already cried out once or twice for Loki, who bit his bottom lip at the thought. He wasn't trying to avoid his infant son, but… perhaps he was. Just a little. 

Loki hurried his steps, picking at the skin of his palm. 

He had almost regained his usual routine, but Váli didn't seem to need him any less than he did a month ago. Váli refused to be bottle-fed, and he was rarely content with accepting solid food. Instead of grinding his teeth like people imagined he did whenever Váli cried, Loki feared he would dissolve into tears of his own. Resignation and defeat. Tears of resignation and defeat. Loki had passed the trials of learning how to get Váli to latch, how to bathe Váli, and just the general of how to care for a babe. But when presented with the new trial that was leaving Váli in the care of one of the maids, Loki feared he would finally come up short. More than he already was. It was not the one thing. It was the little things that the one thing brought. The little things that accumulated until they came crashing down in an avalanche.

Months before, lost in the fog of sleep, Loki believed he had heard his brother tell Váli that Loki wouldn’t let Váli call him mother. Naturally, Váli had no hope of understanding, assuming it had been more than a dream. It wasn’t something Loki had thought about, though he understood that was what he was. Even if Loki had preferred to go by “father,” it was not an option given to him. When Váli was being held in the Healing Rooms, the healers had cooed over him and tried to draw some similarity between him and Loki, calling Loki his mother. It was the most absurd thing Loki had ever seen people do, but they were right about something. He was Váli's mother. 

That word.  _ Mother _ . It did not have quite the same impact unless screamed by his son to keep him from leaving. To be precise, Váli's first word had been a screamed “Mama.” 

Loki had been standing outside his door, back pressed to the wall, looking down at his marred body while listening to Váli's screams. And Loki had been able to see it. Despite the door keeping them apart, Loki could perfectly see in his mind's eye the image of his son's watering eyes and full use of those lungs he had undoubtedly inherited from his father. Loki had clenched his fists in his pants, trying to convince himself to just walk away, before barging through the door. Váli had tried to turn his head in his direction and had stretched his arms in a silent plea to be picked up by his mother. And that was when Loki had heard it. 

“Mama!”

Loki had stridden over to the maid, who had been gently trying to shush Váli, and snatched up his son from her arms. Clutching at his mother, Váli's sobs had turned into hiccups. And then Loki had heard it again. 

“Mama.”

Loki had slid a hand behind Váli's neck and guided his son's head to rest against his chest, shushing him. “No, darling, no. Mama is not leaving.”

To think he had planned to give his son away. 

That had been another day Loki postponed his duties. And how Loki wished today had been yet another of those days. 

As he approached the door to his chambers, Loki heard no cries from his son and, thinking that Váli was asleep, took care on how he opened the door. But what Loki found inside was Váli playing on the carpet, smashing two wooden blocks together, and the maid—Ingrid, if Loki remembered correctly—watching Váli with a beaming smile. 

“My prince!” The woman squealed in unison with Váli. “You just missed it!”

“Missed it?”

Ingrid nodded with great enthusiasm. “Your son walked, my prince.”

Loki stepped deeper into the room and slid a hand across the table in his sitting room. “Yes, he has been holding on to people's legs and furniture to bring himself to his feet, managing to take a few stumbling steps.”

She shook her head. “No, not like that. He actually took two steps forward without any help before falling on his bottom.”

Loki cocked his head, watching Váli make grabby hands towards him. “Without help, you say?”

“Indeed, my lord. He held on to a table as you say before letting go and attempting to walk towards me. He didn't get far, of course, but they were little steps all the same.”

Loki blinked. “But… but those must have been his first steps.”

Váli whimpered. “Mama…”

“He hasn't… hasn't done that before. Not in front of me, at least. I…”

“Oh,” Ingrid breathed, nodding in understanding. 

“Up, Mama!”

Could he… could he have really missed…

{°•°}

Everything. He had missed absolutely everything, Thor thought, chin propped on his palm, his elbow on the balcony railing as he gazed down at his child. His son. Did Váli even know Thor existed? Maybe. Maybe not. After all, Thor now sat seven seats away from Loki during council meetings, those tedious assemblies Váli would sometimes interrupt, dragging behind him a maid cowed by whatever it was Loki told his maids, only to be unable to leave until the meeting was over. There had been outrage at such a decision from all parties involved, but Thor liked to think whether Loki was the most indignant was debatable. If he was, then the courtiers were very close behind him. Perhaps Thor should have a stronger position on the matter considering Loki seemed to believe this was somehow Thor’s fault. Loki tended to dart sullen looks in Thor’s direction, and, in response, Thor tried to look anywhere but at Loki, or even just his general direction. And, well, that was hardly enough for Váli to realise Thor existed.

From what Thor had seen, Váli seemed like a calm child. At least, their parents would have never dreamt of forcing either him or Loki to sit through a council meeting at Váli’s young age. Váli, however, didn’t appear to mind spending the time drawing or playing with baby puzzles. Thor thought it strange. 

But today, in their mother’s garden, Váli was babbling excitedly as he stumbled towards Loki with a yellow flower in his hands. He fell into Loki’s lap and showed his finding to Loki, who sighed, exasperatedly yet fondly, as he accepted the flower. Loki then kissed Váli’s hands, making him giggle, and looked over his shoulder at their mother. She said something Thor couldn’t hope to catch from his distance, but, not long after, Loki glanced in the direction of the balcony Thor stood upon, lips pursed. 

_ Accurate description,  _ Thor thought, thinking back on his mother’s first report.

He looked away, gaze so happening to fall on his friends as they joked between themselves on their way to the palace’s entrance, possibly to drag him to the training grounds or the city. On the bright side, his father had stopped alluding to a marriage to Sif.

When Thor's gaze returned to the elm tree Loki had been sitting under, he found no-one but his mother there, and he sighed. His mother made a shooing gesture Thor couldn't have understood. He stared at her for a while longer until he decided he wasn’t putting his time to good use by trying to figure out what his mother wanted him to do. Surely, Thor had misunderstood what his mother truly meant. But, it was worth a shot.

He bypassed his friends easily enough under the excuse of running an errand for his mother. They granted him passage under the promise that he would see them later at the training grounds, for it was shortly after midday. Whatever errand he was running, they claimed, couldn’t possibly take him all day. 

Thor doubted it.

For courtesy’s sake, Thor knocked on his brother’s door, but the arched eyebrow with which Loki greeted him told Thor it was a stupid thing to do. Because Loki was on his own, Thor knew this would be yet another day he would go without meeting his son, but that did not deter him from voicing his request.

Or trying to, anyway.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what we have here is an entire new chapter. The following one will be composed entirely of what originally used to be flashbacks, so it should be up later today, I think. I have mostly planned the one that comes after, so there shouldn't be a long wait there either. My affairs are mostly in order now, too, thankfully, so another reason why it shouldn't take long waits. Hope everyone is doing okay too.

“What did he say?” his mother asked him hastily at breakfast the following day.

Thor snorted because the answer to that question was, in a way, more obvious than saying the sky was blue, but at least he had understood her gestures correctly. “No. He said no and slammed the door on my face.”

Her brow furrowed, and she glanced down at her plate before questioning, “Well, what did you say?”

Thor was tempted to remain silent, but that would give his mother the wrong impression about yesterday’s events, and that would in turn end in a lecture about good manners or something equally repetitious. There was not much Thor could say anyway. He barely got past “Loki, I know we haven’t spoken in some time, but—” when Loki cut him down with a sharp, curt “No.” And, as aforementioned, Loki then proceeded to shut the door on Thor’s face with a resounding bang in the quiet of the hallway. Thor could swear Loki’s guards had found amusement in their interaction, or lack thereof. Thor’s conclusion: it wasn’t him who needed lectures about good manners.

His mother hummed and patted his hand, unmindful of how his hand tensed, of how he had to make a conscious effort not to clench it into a fist. 

The promise of soon was taking too long to arrive.

Other than their father’s initial decisions concerning Loki’s pregnancy, their parents had mostly stayed out of their affairs, only occasionally trespassing with suggestions of what they thought Thor should do. Well, Thor supposed Loki must have been hearing often from their mother about how he should care for Váli, which meant Thor wasn’t the only one being lectured. 

That was only slightly reassuring.

His father, quite serene by his standards, added, “He has only allowed me to see the child during council meetings.”

Thor groaned, nearly shouting, “That’s the same treatment I’m receiving!” but that was not one of the things one said to the king of Asgard. Instead, Thor forced himself to take a deep breath, very much doubting the benefits of such an action, and changed route. “Now that you mention council meetings, Father, must Váli truly stay for their entirety?”

His father contemplated him in silence. Thor felt the boyish urge to squirm under his father’s unblinking stare, but he held his ground as he looked his father in the eye. Perhaps he expected Thor to drop the topic if made sufficiently uncomfortable, a tactic that worked on many others, but Thor liked to believe he was part of the few exceptions. Except that he was considering backing out because, his father’s stare aside, there was very little he could do about this situation. Loki might think they hadn’t noticed, but they had. Since Loki discovered that bringing Váli along was the easiest way to rile up his opponents (or to escape the ever tedious meetings, leaving Thor to steam alone in his own boredom, reason why Váli wasn’t allowed to leave after he entered the room, for Loki would otherwise find a reason to leave with him), Váli became a regular sight around court. The scoffs of disgust and derision grew increasingly common too. So common, in fact, that, according to their mother, Loki feared their father would send Váli away.

Eventually, his father replied, “It could be averted if Loki agreed to leave Váli in the care of his nursemaid.”

“But, Father—”

A raised hand broke off Thor’s protest, which Thor had been expecting. It was naïve, he knew, to think Loki’s tactics weren’t also benefiting his father’s own goals.

The rest of their meal was spent in relative silence as only matters of the court were exchanged between them. There was always something new and imperative of which to become aware, his father often remarked, though it all sounded like the same old problems to Thor, especially where courtiers were concerned. The new talk of the court was a lesser woman pregnant out of wedlock, and how many times hadn’t that happened before?

Thor’s mind, certainly not by any conscious choice of his, decided that time was better spent dwelling on his son. It was all too easy to recall the dark-haired boy sleeping in Loki’s arm, securely cradled against Loki’s chest, as Loki’s smooth voice filled the room with this or that matter Thor should have been paying attention to. The memory of Loki bouncing Váli on his leg to keep the child from becoming too bored also came with ease, or that time Váli had managed to escape Loki’s attention and almost succeeded in climbing the table to everyone’s protests. Just for that, Loki had helped him climb up and let him draw on some papers that turned out to be important. 

“Go on, darling,” Loki had said, handling Váli more documents when Váli looked at him with a watery gaze, reaching out with his arms to be picked up after the first incredulous shriek of a man desperately scanning the words blurred by the jumbled circles Váli had drawn echoed around the room. “He’s just excited.”

Despite the severe reprimand his father later gave Loki, at that moment in the council room, the man’s mouth had quirked up in a discreet smile, one slightly smaller than the one the memory caused Thor. His mother, naturally, noticed.

Once his father stood from the table, his mother hastily divulged her new plan.

~°•°~

Knowing well that he would fail, Thor paced the length of his room with hunched shoulders, one hand rubbing his chin and occasionally pulling his lower lip as he waited for his brother. Or, well, as he waited for a  _ message _ from his brother, as it was quite unlikely Loki would come. Unless Loki had qualms with disobeying an order, or with people knowing their family was not currently as united as they pretended to be, which seemed more unlikely by the second, so there was no reason for Loki to come. If Thor was aware of anything in the world as he paced, it was the futility of his actions. Loki might follow where Thor led, but nothing could change Loki’s mind when disposed towards a course of action, which, in this case, was preventing Thor from spending time with Váli.

If there were no fraternal bonds between them, not even in name, it would be different, Thor suspected. Thor’s interest in Váli would come across as strange to anyone other than his parents, after all. Who, especially at court, displayed any kind of interest in their sibling’s bastard child? Was Thor’s desire to be involved in Váli’s life another one of those things Loki thought would get him banished? And that was without mentioning the so-called curse placed on Loki. The court’s view of Loki’s pregnancy hadn’t undergone any significant changes, but before Váli’s birth, many questioned if Loki even carried a child at all, or if it was a curse placed upon him by a sorceress for meddling where he shouldn’t, namely the womanly arts, the practice of seiðr. People had wondered if the penalty was childbirth or the pregnancy itself. Thor, equally responsible for Loki’s pregnancy as was Loki, couldn’t fathom where the court got those ideas from. His friends sharing such views had been like another slap to the face.

When the door creaked open, Thor’s head whipped in its direction, his heart soaring to his throat at the welcome sight of Loki.

The guard Thor had ordered to fetch Loki bowed his head and retired. Loki watched the guard as he left and turned his steady, impenetrable gaze on Thor with a dip of his head. “You called for me?”

Thor swallowed. “I… yes.”

Loki shook his head, dropping the unnatural air of distance between them as his leathers disappeared in a shimmer of green. He flopped down on a chair, legs sprawled, head thrown back against the headrest. “I warn you, Thor. I’m in no mood to be taken.”

The saliva in Thor’s mouth soured, but he quickly conjured a friendly smile. “Brother, please. When have I asked a guard to fetch you for such things?”

Loki’s lower lip drew out in a pout. “No, I suppose that isn’t your style. But I’ve heard of the destroyed dummies in the training grounds, and we know how that ends.” He threaded a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. “What do you want, then?”

“Nothing,” Thor replied, backtracking when Loki eyed him dubiously, body leaning forward in preparation to leave. “I wish to meet our son.”

“ _ My _ son, you mean,” Loki corrected instantly. 

He fell into a pensive silence not a second after, but Thor didn't put Loki above doing it for show, making him wait to hear the decision he had made long ago and had no intention of changing. 

Thor fidgeted impatiently as he waited for Loki to continue. 

“Took you long enough, didn't it?”

Thor huffed. Loki was nowhere short of insufferable. “I tried to speak with you last week. You slammed the door on my face.”

“Oh, so  _ that’s  _ what you wanted.”

“What else would I want?” Thor snapped despite having promised his mother he wouldn’t, flumping on a chair with a scowl.

Loki shrugged. “Well, my answer is the same as it was a week ago.”

Annoyance flowed through Thor’s veins, travelling to every corner of his body. His scowl deepened when Loki reclined back with a placid, little smile, waiting for Thor to snap again and have another reason to deny him. But, Thor doubted that could truly be what his brother wanted, so he took a deep breath as his mother had tried to teach him since he was a child. He continued to doubt how relaxing a deep breath could be, but he tried. 

Couldn’t Loki see he was trying?

Thor shook his head to clear his thoughts and walked to a table to pick up his project. He’d been working on it all week. It was frustrating, and humiliating, but he had achieved his goal nonetheless. 

With a broad smile and an exaggerated bow, Thor presented his brother with a lemon cake that had (not that Thor would ever admit it aloud) made him cry as his mother instructed him on its preparation again and again each time it was found lacking. 

Loki’s eyebrows rose towards his hairline as he took the plate in his hands. “Have you decided to bribe me with sweets again?”

“I wouldn’t call it a bribe. Rather, think of it as a show of appreciation,” Thor corrected as he knelt before his brother. Loki cradled the cake closer to him, eyes narrowing. “Mother was quite cross whenever I made the smallest mistake. You would have enjoyed the sight.”

Loki opened and closed his mouth, jaw slack. “You… you baked this?”

Thor nodded, his irritation slowly giving place to a pleasant buzz. “For you,” he confirmed.

Loki brushed his fingers through Thor’s hair, expression softening with a sigh. “Oh, Thor… you utter oaf… I appreciate it, but you know what I think of this.”

“It isn’t a courtship gift,” Thor assured, receiving Loki’s expected disbelief.

He shouldn't, he knew, even as he extended his arm, as he did it anyway and brushed a stray lock of hair behind Loki's ear. It was a simple thing, a simple gesture with no intention other than to touch, but Loki's expression closed off nonetheless. He cradled his present closer for a second before looking like he would reject it all together and push it back into Thor's hands.

Instinctively, Thor's hands curled around Loki's. “I wished to do something nice for you. We haven’t spoken in so long.”

Loki accepted Thor’s explanation with a small nod. “Yes, these years have been… odd, at best.”

Slowly, Thor rose to his feet, cupping one of Loki's cheeks and caressing the skin with his thumb. “What need is there for this, Loki? Surely, these years have been no more enjoyable for you than they have been for me. Let me see him.”

Loki jerked his head to the side, shaking off Thor's touch, stubbornly averting his gaze from Thor's. “You know why, Thor. Don’t ask this of me again. Neither should you ask that I confess to Father the name of Váli’s sire.”

Because he was no less stubborn than his brother, Thor leaned in to kiss Loki's jaw, feeling the tense muscles beneath as he slowly made his way to Loki's mouth, and, just as he reached the corner, just as the tension in Loki's body reached a peak, Loki turned his head and captured his mouth in an open-mouthed kiss. 

Thor breathed a sigh of relief, relishing how Loki's hand twisted viciously in his hair. He wanted to say there had been no doubt that this would be the outcome—and if he was asked, he would say just that—but that couldn't be farther away from the truth. He had been pacing around the room less than half an hour ago, after all. Even now, as he broke the kiss for a gasp of air just to dive back in, his hands were a trembling mess as they took the cake from his brother to get it out of the way. 

Once free, Thor snuck his hands under Loki's shirt, enjoying how he could stretch out his fingers and touch. Simply touch after Loki had deprived him of something so basic as this for years. Thor could press his palm against his brother's skin, stroke it and kiss it, and Loki would let him. 

As he took in Loki's flushed face, his swollen lips, Thor thought that yes, Loki would let him touch where he wanted and do many things. Except leave a mark. Loki hated those, hickeys more than hand-shaped bruises, but both were very easy ways to lose Loki's favour, or so Thor had heard. Well, he had seen it happen a few times too, but he himself had never been brave enough to try it, though not so much for fear of Loki but for fear that it would reveal the true—no, the  _ entire _ nature of their relationship. Now, though? Thor was leaning towards the former

Except that... 

Thor tugged on his brother's shirt, and Loki divested himself of the garment without protest, even if his eyes held a cautious glimmer as they appraised Thor. 

Thor, who exhaled softly at the sight before him, his fingertips reverently tracing the stretch marks on his brother’s abdomen. “I thought you would hide these.”

Loki shook his head and mumbled something unintelligible, something that sounded like "sleeping" and "anyone."

For a few seconds, Thor stared at his brother, wondering how far he could push yet knowing he would do it anyway. 

"What was that?" he asked, trying to go for the confused look, but he knew the twitch of his lips gave him away. 

"I haven't been sleeping with anyone," Loki repeated—snapped, practically—crossing his arms over his chest.

"Is that why you have been so irritable?" 

Loki shot him a look, but Thor didn't feel like shutting up today.

"I offered to spread ointment on your skin for you, did I not?"

"Why are you like this?" his brother muttered, sliding down in his chair. 

Thor sighed, asking himself the same thing about Loki as a dull ache spread across his chest. If it weren't for the centuries long grudge Loki harbored for Sif, Thor would be asking how long until Loki got tired of whatever this was supposed to be, but because he knew better, he instead asked more productive questions like  _ how long until Loki finds someone to take to his bed? _

Loki thrust out his hand, and Thor didn't need any type of clarification to know he was asking for his shirt back. So, because making Loki think he at least thought about it sounded like a good idea, Thor spared the discarded garment on the floor a quick glance before shuffling closer to Loki and nuzzling his face against Loki's stomach.

"I like them," he declared. 

Loki huffed. "Of course you do."

"I find them beautiful," he insisted. 

Only Loki, Thor thought, could fill a snort with such derision. 

"You have a very particular definition of beautiful if that is the case, brother mine. But I suppose whores must be. Beautiful, I mean. How else would they hold people's attention, when they are otherwise so disgusting?"

To that, Thor didn't reply. There was no point in it. As he had mentioned before, Loki's grudges could last centuries and there was no power that could change Loki's mind. Thor had experience in these things. 

Eventually, having failed at picking up a fight, Loki spoke up: "You killed the mood, I hope you know."

Thor rather thought they were spending a nice afternoon together. 

"Can I see him?"

Loki sighed, moving his head from side to side, vacillating, as a person did when faced with a child's persistent questions, though they knew the answer hadn't changed.

“I’ll think about it.” 

Thor could have jumped in victory; instead, he pressed his face closer against Loki's belly and hugged him tightly. 

Thor knew what that really meant. He would just have to push for it a little more.


	7. Chapter 7

Loki bounced Váli on his hip as he walked towards Thor's chambers, his son doing everything in his power to ensure that Loki's attention was on him and on him only by pulling at his tunic and shoving his stuffed animal in Loki's face. It was fine, Loki reminded himself. As soon as Váli was back on solid ground, there would be other sources of entertainment. 

Why had he agreed to do this?

Váli was a handful. All children were a handful, a fact that Thor, in all his blissful inexperience, seemed to ignore. It was even harder on Loki. There seemed to be no balance between his duties and his time for Váli. There were maids who could care for Váli, true, but Loki wanted to do it himself. He  _ needed _ to do it himself. Was it truly so hard to understand that Loki wanted to have a hand in raising Váli? 

Other lords, who were nowhere near his position, would brag to Loki about how they had plenty of time, ignoring how they didn't have near the same amount of duties Loki did. They also had wives who took care of their children, and they forgot (intentionally, Loki didn't doubt) that Loki was different. Loki was not a father. He was a mother despite how much the idea made him squirm. Loki could not drink himself stupid—as if the idea had ever appealed to him—safe in the knowledge that someone was there for Váli. Yes, the lords loved to point out the differences between Loki and themselves as if that would change anything.

Thor insisted that it would be easier if Loki allowed him to be part of Váli's life, ruining whatever semblance of brotherhood they could have been able to construct. Loki could see, quite clearly, that he was falling into old patterns, but the thrill of being fucked against a wall in the middle of a secluded hallway had messed with his brain. Thor had taken up to following him around, babbling about all manners of nonsense, and, as always, one thing had led to another and Loki had just wanted Thor to shut up.

That was what Loki had said, actually. Thor had buried his face in the crook of Loki's neck and (as he had been doing for almost four months, especially when they were momentarily left alone in public spaces) planted a kiss there before asking, "Can I see him?" And because Loki absolutely had not wanted to think of his child whilst chasing his pleasure (nevermind that this had been supposed to be stress relief and Thor talking ruined that), he had snapped, "Alright, fine. Just shut up," and left deep, angry scratches across Thor's shoulders that Loki knew had to have hurt, for he'd seen Thor wince when rolling his shoulders afterwards. 

The oaf had been so stupidly happy. Loki had even felt that stupid grin of Thor's against his flushed skin before Thor buried himself deep and spilled.

So here was Loki, finally taking Váli to Thor after a week of having agreed to this. It was a mistake, obviously, and a big one at that. If Thor and Váli were openly seen together, it would only attract more undesirable attention towards Váli, a child that was already scorned enough by the court. For Loki's part, he was used to getting this and that glare from this or that woman, or the occasional man, with a dirty enough mind to read too much into certain situations. Really, Loki only hoped Thor wasn't expecting to be received back with open arms after breaking the promise that had mattered the most. That because he had changed his mind about Váli, Loki would forget it ever happened. Even better, that Loki would play house with him and give Váli the illusion of a father figure just to rip it away when the time came for Thor to choose a wife with whom to have heirs.

Oh, Thor would see Váli alright, but Loki had meant it each and every time he claimed Váli as his and only his. The thing was that, as he knocked on Thor's door, Loki thought this would be a much better punishment than dangling Váli in front of Thor every other day when surrounded by a crowd of people that prevented Thor from interacting with Váli. For whom was the punishment intended, though? Loki wasn't sure. It could go both ways, honestly. 

After the knock, the door opened in an instant, revealing Thor, with his eyes wide and in constant movement once they fell upon Váli, and Loki wondered: had Thor paced while waiting for them? 

“Hello, Thor. As you well know, this is Váli. Your  _ nephew _ .” Loki ran a hand over his son's hair, kissing the top of his head. Váli bunched a hand in Loki's tunic, the other one clutching his toy close to his chest. “Darling, say hi to Uncle Thor. He'll be taking care of you today.” 

Váli tried to snuggle closer to Loki, and Thor's face fell. Loki had to hold back an eye roll. 

“He's a little shy around strangers,” Loki told Thor, watching him nod slowly. “As promised, I will permit you to care for my son under my surveillance. But make one mistake, Thor, just the one, and it is over.”

The ghost of a smile appeared on his brother's face. 

“You won't regret this, Brother,” Thor assured as he opened the door wider, inviting them in.

Oh, Loki was sure he would.

{°•°}

The first thing Thor thought when his brother entrusted their son into his arms was… nothing. Just plain nothingness. So, perhaps Thor's actual first thought was that this was the first time that Loki allowed him to see their son up close, to hold him, and that maybe there was a very real possibility that Thor might drop him. Although, on second thought, that might have come a few seconds later when Váli raised his head to look at Thor, and Thor thought,  _ He has my eyes _ . And that was when Thor feared he would drop Váli. Seeing Váli there in his arms was nothing like watching him from across the table or from a distant balcony. But then, the fear morphed into real panic when Váli's lower lip began to tremble and his arms shot out in search of Loki, and all Thor could hear was a babble of “Mama, don't go.”

Two realizations hit Thor at once. First, Thor had never heard his son speak before. Second, Thor had no idea what he was doing and no help would be forthcoming from his brother. In fact, Loki raised a judging eyebrow before taking Váli back into his arms, and Thor swore he saw amusement dancing in Loki's emerald gaze. 

“Hush, darling. I'm not leaving. We came to spend the day with Uncle Thor, remember? You and I.” A grin spread across Loki's face. “In fact, I think Uncle Thor's chambers could use some paintings. Wouldn't you agree, brother dear?”

Thor took a look around and gulped. For once, Loki's meaning was perfectly clear to him. It was only natural that Loki would try to take advantage of him somehow.

“Should I look for crayons?”

Loki's grin seemed impossibly wider. “So kind of you to offer, Thor, but I can conjure Váli's crayons. We wouldn't want Váli to get bored.”

Right. Váli’s crayons, which had no doubt been enchanted to resist even the passage of time, leaving an eternal mark upon Thor’s walls. But, with Váli fussing in his mother's arms, struggling, as he rarely did, to be put down, Thor could not protest. 

Loki bent down and placed a small, worn rectangular box in Váli's awaiting hands. Then, Váli looked at Thor with questioning eyes, his gaze gleaming with excitement. 

“We could use that wall over there.”

Thor pointed to the only wall that was not covered by shelves presenting some old, long-forgotten trinket acquired during this or that quest. Or by the short collection of books that had fallen out a quarter of the way through despite Thor having done his best to please Loki. 

Váli set out in the direction of the wall, and Thor watched him go, his chest constricting with melancholy. Thor didn't envy his brother's life except where Váli was concerned. What good was it that Loki had given Thor a son if Thor would never hear the word “father” roll off the child's tongue? Thor couldn't deny that watching his son brought a sense of detachment. Váli was his; Thor had agreed with that years ago. But thinking of Váli as his son was not the same thing as  _ seeing _ Váli as his son. Today was the first day that Thor felt the weight of the child in his arms, that Thor heard him speak, that Thor could say Váli knew he existed. But as things were, Thor had still not spoken to Váli. Not since Váli was in Loki's womb and Loki too consumed by sleep to protest.

“Are you not going to join him?” Loki asked. 

“Are you?” Thor retorted but moved to sit on the floor next to Váli. 

He looked back at his brother, unsure, mouth dry with the tingling of fear. One mistake, and it was over. 

“Ask him what he's drawing,” Loki suggested, stepping closer.

Thor swallowed, passing saliva that barely got his mouth working. “What do you have there, Váli?”

Transfixed, Thor stared as Váli's mouth began to move, forming words incomprehensible to Thor's ears. There was nothing extraordinary about it. Everyone could speak, and Thor had heard from his mother that Váli could form sentences for some time now, but Váli had never before spoken to Thor. Most likely had deemed Thor unimportant as he barely spared a glance for his father. 

Váli thrust a yellowish crayon into Thor's hand, slightly chewed at the end.

“No, you see, I can't draw,” Thor told Váli. 

Váli gave Thor a fairly unimpressed look for his young age. That was entirely Loki's influence, Thor decided. 

“Oh, don't be like that, Thor. I'm sure you can manage something,” Loki gibed as he sat next to Thor, one leg pressed against Thor's. 

Placing a hand on Loki's knees, Thor gave his brother his own version of Váli's look and drew a few squiggly lines without looking. 

Loki snorted. “What's that supposed to be?”

Thor turned back to Váli. “See? It's ugly.”

Váli grumbled and climbed into Thor's lap, pushing his crayon against the wall, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he tried to "fix" Thor's mess. 

One quick glance in his brother's direction showed Thor a look of utter adoration he hadn't seen on Loki's face in a long time, and he wondered if he looked the same. 

{°•°}

It had been, up to a point, Loki would admit, a nice day. Váli had enjoyed himself, at least, which was what mattered the most, Loki supposed. But there were other things Loki cherished—things that happened to correlate with Váli's happiness. 

Váli had been a quiet baby, Ingrid claimed, even if he had his fussy days, and Loki had to agree. Most often than not, he was perplexed with the child's ability to sit quietly and entertain himself, and that was—fortunately or unfortunately, Loki hadn't decided—the side of Váli Thor knew: the side that was happy to sit quietly in his mother's lap. But Váli was also the child that liked to run away from his nanny and slip out of his clothes the first chance he got, though there was no possibility of getting him to take a shower quietly unless he was half-asleep, his belly full of pacifying milk.  _ That _ was the side of Váli that was a handful, the one Thor hadn't had the pleasure to meet until today, when Loki had sprawled over the couch and watched Thor chase a naked Váli around the room. 

"Where are his clothes?" Thor had shrieked, giving up the chase once Váli climbed next to Loki on the couch and squirmed around until Loki wrapped his arms around him. Just in time for his afternoon nap.

Loki had thrown his head back and laughed, conjuring Váli's clothes to his child's little whine of protest. But, by that point, Váli's breathing had begun to slow down, the exhaustion of being chased around setting in, and a nice snooze had followed soon after. 

That was when things had begun to go downhill for Loki. 

Already aware of the answer, Loki had asked, "Is it alright if he takes his nap in your bed?"

With a feeble smile, fingers raking through his hair after the stress he had no doubt experienced chasing Váli around, Thor had replied, "Of course."

And so, shooting Thor a grin, Loki had gathered Váli in his arms and gently laid him down on Thor's bed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Loki had thought he was doing a good job at training Thor then, but, once he reached the threshold, Thor had placed a hand on his shoulder and asked, "Let's talk, alright?"

That was when the nice day ended. When Thor started babbling nonsense again and Loki found himself with his hands splayed over the dining table, muttering the words “You are delusional” as if in a trance. 

Truthfully, had this been any other topic, Loki would be in awe. But in this case, at this particular time, Loki could only wonder why when offered a hand, people lunged for the whole arm.

“And you are not listening,” Thor replied with an exasperation that rivaled Loki's own. 

Loki shook his head, eyes roaming the twisted lines of the wood, wishing, partly, that Thor would go away and never return. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

His brother shuffled closer. Whatever reservations he might have held before were long forgotten. “It is not fair that you get to experience everything.”

Loki flopped on his chair with a dry chuckle, the feeling of dread that came up with this topic never leaving his chest. “Well, I had no idea changing dirty nappies and being woken every couple of hours during the night was such an honor.”

“I would have helped you, Loki,” Thor retorted. “You know I still would. But, must I remind you that I was kept away from my son because you decided it so?”

“Do not call Váli your son.” Loki gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white. Until he had to calm himself, lest he raise his voice and wake Váli sleeping away the afternoon in Thor’s bed. Had allowing Váli to take his nap here been what misled Thor to the point he believed their situation was negotiable? Loki should have known. “I'm not in the mood for such sentimentality today.”

Thor's shoulders slumped. “You never are.”

_ Too little, too late. Wasn't that the expression? _

The scraping of a chair across from him brought Loki's attention back to the problem at hand. 

“I believe that I have bended my arm enough for you, brother dear. Was the time that I offered you with my son not enough?”

Thor folded his hands on top of the table, glaring at Loki. “You very well know it isn't. That's why you allowed it.”

“You think quite poorly of me, do you not?”

Thor huffed. “Why must you be so difficult?”

An evasion. Loki should have expected that. 

He wrapped his arms around his frame, glancing up at the ceiling. It was a definite improvement from having to look at the delusional idiot across from him. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing, Brother. Nothing except that you consider what I've said.”

Loki's hands spasmed, bunching in the fabric of his tunic. “Once again,  _ Brother _ . You are delusional.”

Thor rubbed his hands over his face, that exasperated gesture Loki wished would leave a lasting impression on Thor’s mind. “Why, Loki? For wanting to be part of my son's life? For wanting to be by your side?”

“Yes,” Loki hissed, slamming his hands on the table. “How many times must I tell you not to call Váli yours?” he whispered furiously. “You denied him, Thor. You have no right over him. Or duties, if that’s what this is about.”

Thor didn't waver, reaching across the table for Loki's hands. Loki would pull them away if he thought it would deter his brother in the slightest. But the warmth… he had missed the warmth.

“What must I do to earn your forgiveness? Tell me, and you shall have it.”

_ Nothing. There is nothing you can do _ , Loki thought. It had been years since Thor called him a whore, but what were a couple of years to long-lived creatures such as them? It wasn't the word what Loki resented. He had been called a whore by many in the past, was used to it, but Thor promised, a long time ago, when their relationship was young, that he would never be one of those many. Yet, Thor, known by all as a man of his word, had broken that promise. 

“Brother, I have begged you since our child was still in your belly to let me stay. I ask you, how much longer?”

Loki attempted to free his hands, but Thor didn’t let go. “The Mighty Thor never begs,” he said in an imitation of his brother's voice. A very good one, if he did say so himself.

“Loki-"

“No. Stop it.” Loki gave one final tug of his hands. “I am your brother!”

“No, Loki, listen-"

“Stop, I said. We knew we were making a mistake when we began sleeping together, did we not? Did we not try to stop? Yes, we did. Because it's wrong. You will get me banished if you keep insisting I tell father you sired Váli.”

“Listen, you fool-"

“No!” Loki shouted. “Who do you think will be punished for this? It was I who was claimed, not you.” He drew in a long breath, glancing towards Thor’s bedchamber, where Váli continued to sleep peacefully under the covers. His eyes glistened, his voice betraying him further with its waver. “We have nowhere to go. No place where I can trust Váli will be safe, no means to provide for him. So, I ask you, Thor—I implore you—to cease this madness.”

Thor paused, gaze momentarily losing its stubborn spark as he cupped Loki’s face. “But you don't know-"

Loki surged forward, and Thor rose to meet him, the grating of the chairs resounding in their ears. Their lips smacked together in a messy, not well-coordinated kiss, but it was effective nonetheless. 

Loki pulled back and patted Thor's arm, muttering, “There. That's better.”

Thor groaned. “Loki.”

“Tell you what, brother mine. I never hear of this again, and you get to see Váli as often as you like. How about that?”

Thor sighed, shoulders slumping. “It will do for now.”

_ For now _ . Loki could accept that answer. As long as he wasn't bothered next week, or next month with any luck, it was acceptable. Except that months rolled into a year, and Loki never again heard talk of the possibility of Váli receiving his rightful place. Apparently, his bull-headed of a brother had given up. Just that easily. 

What a bizarre occurrence, really, but at least this meant there was one stressor less to handle, because if chunks of hair kept falling off his head, Loki swore he would scream. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recently, I noticed that quotation marks look different depending on whether I used my phone or my laptop to write. Not sure why I think that's something worth sharing, but it's something that I found interesting.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's a time jump between last chapter and this one, which is not linear, so hopefully that won't be confusing. At least it's an entirely new chapter?

The warmth of Loki's breath fanned his skin, a contrast to the icy breeze blowing in through the open window, the curtains gently swaying in the afternoon light. Were it not for the idle patterns being traced on his arm, Loki's nails lightly grazing his skin, Thor would have thought Loki had fallen asleep in his arms. A little more pressure, though, enough that scraping would become scratching, and Thor would know Loki was trying to rile him up in preparation for a rough fuck. The scratching and pinching almost never failed to precede the more annoying of Loki's behaviours. Like sticking his tongue in Thor's ear. Excellent example, that one. 

That was something that had stayed with them. The apparent need to fight before they could fuck. Initially, that had been the only way they would touch each other as brothers never should. Thor was also sure alcohol had been involved, but not always. Not like fights, the pretext they had used to excuse themselves from social gatherings, had been.

They were stupid things. Thor remembered thinking as much. They were stupid things, but Thor and Loki had argued passionately nonetheless. Maybe that was even how Loki began to earn his reputation for being unreasonable—quite an accurate assessment in Thor’s opinion. But then, Thor supposed it had been unreasonable of him, for example, to expect Loki to know he’d had no other lovers on the side when he never made an effort to quiet the many maidens claiming he’d taken them to bed. Those rumors were hardly ever true, but occasionally they were, and Thor had thought they were a perfect cover. To have him, the heir to the throne, not boasting about his sexual prowess would have been a glaring indicator that something was wrong, or abnormal at best. His love for his brother, for instance, or so Loki would say. 

That had been another mistake. Boasting about his conquests, yet condemning Loki for holding raffles at feasts to see who would be lucky enough to land in his bed, knowing Fandral did the same, simply at a different corner.

They used to whisper about him. Both men and women alike. They had loved him and swooned over him, and, like Thor, all Loki had needed to do was smile. But no more. Women no longer desired to be taken to Loki’s bed, and men spoke of Loki as if he were no more than a whore. Just like in the early days, when Thor had not yet known Loki as a lover and they would argue about how a prince of Asgard should not be spreading his legs for another man.

Perhaps that had been the turning point in their relationship. The day Loki publicly admitted to having a male lover, causing more unrest amongst the court than when he announced he would be dedicating himself to the study of seiðr. Thor and Loki had argued later both days. First, Thor had told his brother that although he knew that their mother’s seiðr lessons were a most dearly cherished time, an honorable man did not devote himself to the womanly arts, and though Loki’s voice had been soft when he replied, it had been enough to deter Thor’s tirade.

“I have Father’s support,” Loki had said, downcast but for a second before his eyes sparked with reproach. “You said I would find something right for me. _For me_ , Thor. Do you remember that?”

That was the end of that argument because yes, Thor did say that, and as much as he had believed he could never support Loki’s endeavours, he had known, even then, that he could not take away Loki’s joy.

That did not stop Thor from seeking out his father the next day and demanding what his “support” was supposed to mean.

About a century later came the argument over Loki’s male lover, started only because Thor had found Loki draped over his bed, his sleeping gown slipping down his shoulder, and Thor hadn’t been able to stop himself from staring at the love bites on his brother’s neck.

At Thor’s unwavering stare, Loki had rolled his eyes, muttering, “I think they’re supposed to be some kind of reward for making our ‘love’ public… We argued. It won’t happen again.”

“You can’t be more vulgar, can you?” Thor had snapped, which, in retrospect, was completely the wrong reaction. He knew that now, though it hadn’t looked like that in the moment, when Loki had gotten in his face and all Thor had been able to think about were the love bites marring Loki’s pale skin and the disgusted whispers of the court. “Do you know what people are saying about you?” he’d eventually said, lowering his voice. “They’re saying… they’re saying you’re spreading your legs like… like a…”

“Like a what, Thor?” Loki had retorted, vibrating with fury.

Thor had snapped his mouth shut and tried to sidestep Loki, only for Loki to block his path. 

“Go on,” Loki had pressed. “I’ve heard it before.”

“Loki, no, lis—”

“Say it, Thor!”

Two unfaltering refusals later, Loki had stormed out of the room, and, upon remembering, Thor couldn’t decide whether or not it could have been worse. Somehow, when reflecting on his relationship with his brother, that argument, despite having been such a significant development, hadn’t come to mind. Part of Thor couldn’t even believe he had ever argued such a thing, and that memory had, in fact, been far away from his mind until recently when, for obvious reasons, it came back to torment him. But there was a more haunting memory, from decades later, that made everything worse. A memory of waking up to Loki sitting on the edge of the bed, knees drawn to his chest and a fist pressed against his lips, eyes tinged red with unshed tears, body bare but for the blanket loosely wrapped around his shoulders.

“I need you to promise me something,” he’d murmured.

“Of course,” Thor had assured him immediately as he inched towards him on all fours, voice slightly croaky from sleep. “What is it?”

“I need you to—” Loki had ducked his head with a sharp intake of breath, letting it rush out of him when he continued, “I need you to never call me a whore.”

“Of course,” he’d repeated, brow creased in confusion. “I could never think of you as one.”

“I don’t think you understand the position we are in,” Loki had insisted, expression tight with distress. “We’re brothers, Thor. What we're doing, it's not something we can erase to start anew. If you do call me that, I can't… I can't just move on to the next person and forget it ever happened. That _you_ , of all people, see me like that. Can you understand that?”

Without a word, Thor had wrapped an arm around Loki’s frame, sighing softly when Loki leaned into his embrace. He had listened, without a single interruption, to Loki ramble about the corruption of their brotherhood, the error of their ways, when, to Thor, the progression of their bond had seemed like the only natural course. And Thor had remembered then. With Loki shuddering in his arms, Thor had remembered finding Loki scrubbing his skin raw in the bath earlier that month, hissing when the stream of water hit his skin, yet continuing his attempt to cleanse himself of Thor’s touch. And Thor had not made the connection. Even with Loki rendered vulnerable in his arms, Thor hadn’t made the connection between their argument and the vow Loki asked of him.

Truth be told, Thor hadn’t thought of their argument except for on the day that it happened and not ever again after the night of that same day when, unhappy with how things had ended with Loki, he’d meandered through the palace’s halls until he inevitably ended at Loki’s door, wondering if Loki slept with his guards, if his lover was nothing but that, a lowborn, for Loki would never take a patrician to his bed, nor would a patrician ever be interested in such involvements. 

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” Loki had said when Thor lay down beside him, “but I’m still unhappy with you. And I know you haven’t come here to apologise.”

“You know how this looks,” he’d replied, pulling Loki against his chest with an arm around his waist, Loki stubbornly remaining on his side. He’d huffed. “I can’t believe you let yourself be marked. Makes you wonder why your fling with the seamstress’ daughter really ended.” 

“She kept giving me hickeys,” Loki had begrudgingly admitted, his annoyance momentarily directed at someone other than Thor. “And she wanted me to marry her… She’s delusional.”

Pleased with the change of topic, Thor had curled around Loki, had thought the conversation to be done, but Loki had proved him wrong by squirming in his grip, movements tense and jerky. 

"Thor, we're too old for this. Go to your own bed."

Thor had whined and tightened his grip in protest, refusing to let go when he knew not whose company Loki would seek. The company of his lover no doubt, but that of a nameless man nonetheless. That was something Thor hadn’t been able to allow, and Loki, ceasing his struggle with a loud huff, had seemed to at least understand that. He would roll away during the night, complaining that Thor was too sweaty and warm, yet taking the bedding with him, but, for the time being, he would not voice any more halfhearted protests. 

Or that was how it usually went.

Usually, their faint breathing would not have been interrupted by a bitter murmur.

“I have someone else to guard me from the cold now. I hope you know that.”

“I know,” he’d replied, knowing it wouldn’t last long. That had been nothing more than a fling, and Loki himself had known it. In the end, they would both marry the women their father chose to be their wives, so there had been no point in preventing their argument from reaching its resolution when it would ultimately be inconsequential. Yes, the matter had seemed quite resolved to Thor as he curled a hand around his brother’s hip and kissed along the expanse of his neck, wondering. For a second, Loki had once again tensed in his hold before relaxing with a shivering sigh, and Thor had wondered, _How are you with your lovers?_

It had seemed like mere curiosity, back then. Curiosity of how Loki’s touch would feel on his skin, the taste of him on his tongue, and it all had seemed like innocent things. Things they had always shared but that Loki had always reciprocated to a lesser degree, and it had all been attributed to Loki not being as tactile a person as Thor. But, when Thor’s curiosity was finally sated, their bond finally deepened as it had always been destined to be—for why else would they find their way to each other's bed time and again—Thor still wondered, _How are you with your other lovers?_

Thor had, many a time, wondered about such things because he was absolutely and irrevocably sure that Loki didn’t pinch them, or pull their beards, or stick his tongue in their ears, or hold their eyelids open to see if they were awake.

“Just making sure,” Loki said when Thor slapped his hand away from his face, glowering at Loki’s self-satisfied smirk. “You have been a little out of sorts today.”

“It’s nothing.” 

Pulling his brother back down to the bed, Thor sighed. It was “nothing” as in “nothing Loki would care about.” And, “a little out of sorts”? That was nothing new. Loki had simply been too immersed in his rivalries to notice Thor was trying to understand him better or something like that. Thor wasn’t actually sure. He was beginning to think it didn’t matter. Today had been a nice day after all, though he’d come to realise “whenever you want” actually meant “every two weeks.” But that was fine. Thor had met Loki and Váli in the gardens; had sat on a bench with Loki, thighs pressed together, as they watched and timed Váli race to a tree and back; and had tried to talk to Loki when Váli went in search of flowers only for Loki to send a pointed look past some bushes to a clearing in the garden where some noblewomen sat. With no small amount of annoyance, Thor had watched the noblewomen converse amongst themselves, oblivious to their presence, while their maids chased their children around, trying to keep them in sight. Irritated, he’d placed a hand on Loki’s knee, allowing himself to be comforted by the weight of Loki’s hand on his, of Loki’s head on his shoulder. Eventually, they had taken Váli back to Loki’s chambers for his afternoon nap, and Thor had suddenly found himself with Loki in his lap, finally ending up in Loki’s spare bedchamber. So, generally speaking, today had been a nice day where _generally_ was the key word.

Thor had, however, hoped Loki would allow him to make a case for himself today.

“Brother?”

“Mm-hmm?”

Loki lifted his head from Thor’s chest, his gaze soft when it met Thor’s, and Thor, swallowing thickly, found himself unwilling to break the peace they had been able to foster in recent months.

“Váli is beginning his schooling soon, is he not?”

Loki’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How do you know that?”

“Why wouldn’t I know that?”

“Váli’s beginning a year early, with private tutors. Something I haven’t shared with the court since it is”—Loki’s lips curled—“ _pretentious_ for a bastard to receive such high education, not that it is any of the court’s business. But if you had been keeping up to date with Váli’s development—”

“Which I have done.”

“—then you would have presumed—pardon?”

Thor had to admit. Interrupting Loki’s emerging tirade and watching Loki interrupt himself as a consequence were the highlights of his day.

“I _have_ been keeping track of Váli, Loki.”

“Hmm. I see. You are aware, then, of Mother’s suggestion?”

Thor sighed. This was, unfortunately, the moment Loki dragged him into one of the aforementioned rivalries before turning his ire on him. The worst thing was, Thor had noticed recently, that if Loki wanted, he could spin a seemingly perfectly logical argument that placed the entire blame on Thor. But, Thor had also noticed that as long as he pretended to listen to Loki’s rants and refrained from saying something “idiotic,” he could prevent an argument about… say, forty percent of the time? Somewhere about fifty sounded about right but definitely less. Loki, after all, enjoyed taking out his frustration—which seemed to have tripled lately, not that Thor knew a permanent solution for most of the causes—on Thor as much as Thor enjoyed doing the same with Loki. Today, however, Thor was very much in support of avoiding squabbles. It had been a nice day so far, and he wanted to keep it that way.

As if it were a practiced response, Thor replied, “She initially suggested Váli receive the same education as us, but you refused because—”

“Because it’s useless.”

_Never thought I would hear you say that,_ Thor thought, not as surprised as he would have been had he not heard it from their mother beforehand, but that didn’t compare to actually hearing it from Loki, his face devoid of any emotion as he stared back at Thor.

“You are not going to try to convince me otherwise?”

And that was how Thor knew that, no matter what he did, his day was soon going to be ruined. Knowing that there was no right answer, he could only hope he chose the one that would aggravate Loki the least.

Maybe he was supposed to agree?

It seemed like the shorter road.

“No, you’re right, Loki. It won’t help Váli in the future. Which is why Mother suggested you find a trade that will allow Váli to remain close to the court.”

As predicted, that was the wrong thing to say.

“Are you truly that dull, or are you simply pretending you don't know what that means?”

Deep breaths. 

Deep. 

Breaths.

Years later, Thor still didn't think that was working.

"Brother," Thor enunciated slowly, "let's be reasonable about this." He ignored Loki's snort. "We knew it would come to this. Váli is an illegitimate child, ineligible to inherit. He will need to make a living for himself, and… and at least if he is employed by members of the court, he will remain close to you."

It pained Thor to say so—and judging by how Loki was trying to blink away his glistening tears, how his lower lip quivered like the drawn arrow of a young boy beginning his training, it was tearing Loki apart too—but what should have been a hobby would have to become their child's living. Like a commoner, Váli would have to work for his own money if he wished to survive. 

In the blink of an eye, Thor felt Loki's body crash against his, and there was nothing Thor could do but close his eyes and wait for the inevitable sting in his side. Except that it never came. Instead, he was confronted with Loki's muffled sobs, with Loki's lithe limbs wrapped around him in a vice-like grip, and with no stab wound anywhere he could discern. 

Without further thought, Thor cradled Loki close to him and threaded a hand through Loki's hair, just like he used to do all those many centuries ago whenever Loki came to him for comfort after a distressing nightmare or a petty altercation. And, with his eyes still set on those simpler times, he waited in silence as Loki's sobs turned into hiccups and then into sniffles before quieting completely. 

The whisper was so soft Thor could have almost missed it. 

"How could you do this to me?"

He screwed his eyes shut, his grip tightening to the point Loki so hated, but his brother offered no protests. 

The silence, deafening in a way the loudest sound could never be, stretched between them. It was the kind of silence that only existed when one knew they should speak—truly speak—yet every word became a knot in the throat, dying in the bowels of the mouth before it could ever be uttered. It was the kind of silence that ticked in one's ears, and, as his brother resumed his tracing of idle patterns, as the ticking in his ear stretched with the silence, Thor wondered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we finally got to see the things Thor has been thinking about mentioned in chapter five. Anyways, the next chapter is looking like a complete mess right now. I'm hoping it'll be ready for next weekend, but I'm honestly not sure, so I guess we'll see how that goes. But then again. A complete mess.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this is me giving up, because, as mentioned at the end of last chapter, this chapter is a mess, though hopefully not _too_ much of a mess. Still, I did try to reorganise the chapter as not to resort to footnotes—and a super long one at that; the last one is super long. But, as you can see, I failed miserably. Every time I tried my brain was like, nah, let's do something else. I _have_ been working on this story, though. Just not on this chapter. Also, the middle keys on my keyboard have decided to rebel against me, so that has been inconvenient to say the least. And I do mean inconvenient. Highly inconvenient, as I'm sure anyone can imagine.
> 
> Anyways, I hope this isn't too terrible and can be somewhat enjoyable?

"Mommy, when's Uncle coming?"

Loki sighed, reluctantly cracking an eye open to see Váli frowning up at him, Váli's head knocked back against his chest. Loki's only comfort was that Váli's displeasure was not so much directed at Thor's absence as it was at the prospect of Loki falling asleep during their afternoon together. Loki hadn't, of course. He never did, nor would he ever do. He could remember, with crystal clear clarity, the childhood fear of boring his parents to sleep. They were only resting their eyes, they had claimed, and Loki hated that he begrudgingly sympathised now that he had a child of his own. He almost felt guilty about that thought. Váli didn't speak much, but, when he did, he did so in spurts.

"Next weekend," Loki replied tiredly. "As always."

"But, Mommy," Váli whined, "that's too long. It's forever away!"

Under Loki's unimpressed stare,1 Váli wiggled around until he was facing Loki and reached for Loki's newly trimmed hair. Resigned, Loki breathed another sigh. Despite how many times he had told the child to leave his hair alone, that was more often than not the piece of him Váli reached for. Only baldness, ugly and horrifying baldness, would save him from having little hands buried in his hair. It was a good thing, then, that Váli hadn't turned out to be a girl as Loki had once hoped.2 Oh, how Thor would have hated that! To have his firstborn be a girl. Perhaps no miraculous change of heart would have occurred then, for how could the Mighty Thor, heir to the throne of the Golden Realm, known by all for its sturdy, warring race, produce something as delicate as a little girl? Inconceivable! 

Not that it mattered, but Loki had been mildly disappointed when he found out his babe would be a boy after all.

In as serious a tone as a boy his age could manage, Váli restated, "Mommy, it's too long. You know it's too long."

"It's eight days away," Loki corrected. "Perfect length of time."

Slowly, Váli shook his head, a frown twisting his features, and Loki felt a surge of pride in his chest as his child tried to find a different approach instead of immediately resorting to whining. Unfortunately for Váli, there was little else he could do but whine, making him bound to fail like Thor before him, but, nevertheless, Loki was pleased to see his dear boy had not been cursed with Thor's dim wits. 

It was in moments like this that Loki understood Thor's need to squeeze the air out of him. Váli looked so lovable with his pudgy cheeks, with those eyes shining with frustration, and with the strands of hair that kept falling over his eyes but that Loki left alone because Váli had thrown a tantrum last time Loki called the hairdresser. Váli looked so adorable Loki just felt like he could burst with the love he held for his child, even as he squished Váli tightly against his chest, humming along with Váli's half-hearted protests.

Half-hearted mostly because, according to Váli's nanny, Váli had to chase Loki around for most of the morning to get a goodbye hug lest Loki forget and leave him waiting. To tell the truth, Loki hadn't noticed Váli followed him around until Ingrid commented on it, as he had let her know, trying to recall the aforementioned behaviour. It had been a subtle thing, but Ingrid's eyebrow had twitched up ever so slightly, the telltale sign that something was being reported back to his mother. Loki had winced. He had had enough lectures from his mother since Váli was born3 to become acquaintanced with the more unpleasant aspects of her person. And, as predicted, he had found himself in his mother's weaving room a day later, being lectured on how children had different emotional requirements and how Váli's just happened to be closer to Thor's on the affection scale. Loki had thought the whole situation absurd since Váli practically slept on top of him, or at least close enough that Loki felt his kicks for a whole day afterwards. He had the bruises to prove it. 

Loki had, of course, said as much, and his mother had thrown him the customary look that said she didn't understand why Váli was still sleeping with him to begin with. Surely, Loki did not still believe Váli would be taken from him? Please. As if Loki didn't know the other courtiers saw Váli as his little pet, his little experiment. They couldn’t wait to see him gone. After all, unlike the guards and maids of the palace, the members of the court refused to believe Váli's birth had been anywhere near natural. And what could Loki say? His open secret had finally reached the delicate ears of those he had never intended to know, and it had been dismissed as part of the vulgar whispers of those whose minds were too limited to understand the obscure practices the younger prince was known to meddle with. Because, surely, if they understood, they would not love Loki so?

Loki didn't actually know what happened inside their pompous, little heads, nor did he particularly care, but he could take a guess. Anyway, the Einherjar obviously held little respect for him, if any at all, and Loki wasn't quite sure why the maids didn't sneer at him more often. At least the outskirts of the city cared very little about what happened at court. 

With a huff, Loki dispelled his thoughts. A headache was blooming at the back of his head, and Váli’s whining was not doing much to help. What was even so exciting about Thor coming? Váli saw him every other day. Loki simply didn’t give either of them enough time to do more than wave at each other, tugging Váli along whenever Thor looked like he might approach them. Not that Thor actually would. Or at least Loki didn’t believe he would. But, oh, it would be horrible if he did. Damning, even. It would be beneficial for Váli, one would think, to have the heir’s open support, but, honestly, one could also think Váli hadn’t showered in weeks with the glares Sif sent his way, never mind those sent by the other ladies, their noses all scrunched up in disgust. No, that would only arouse more animosity against Váli and Loki himself, who had been unintentionally guarding off the women intent on wooing Thor. Váli was obvious, but all Loki had done was stand next to Thor with Thor’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, which, ironically, had been quite consciously intended to guard off anyone who might have wanted to approach Loki. Unlikely, but Loki hadn’t voiced that thought, instead focusing on the cup of mead somebody thrust into his hand knowing very well that Loki didn’t drink.4 He had debated with himself whether or not to take the insult, but then his mind had turned to Váli and how much he wished he wouldn’t find Váli running around naked again because chances were he would want nothing but to flop down on his bed ( _their_ bed, according to Váli) upon his return, once it would be socially acceptable to leave the feast. So, yes, Loki had been thinking about how fluffy his bed was and how nice it would if Váli were ready for bed (or, if the Norns were gracious, already asleep instead of insisting he had to wait for Loki) when Thor leaned against him and proclaimed, “My brother here will keep me company.”

“What?” Loki had asked dumbly, rudely getting his thoughts interrupted by the haughty sniffs of the women around them. “I’m not staying for long,” he’d added—just like he’d told Thor a few hours prior to the feast—when it became apparent the ladies wouldn’t be moving along. And Thor, curse him, had turned those big, pleading blue eyes on Loki, and the sentiment had been carried across so effectively that it was like Thor had spoken the words aloud: _Don’t leave me alone with them_.

He’d sucked in a sharp breath and gritted out, “Fine.”

It was ridiculous how pleasing it was to be the recipient of Thor’s grin, so he had let himself be dragged to a different corner of the room, just to be more pleased when Thor’s friends proved to be nowhere in sight. That, unfortunately, didn’t cancel the withering glares the harpies threw after him, nor the petition they presented later that week for Váli to be removed,5 but that was nothing new, and did Loki still have to explain why he preferred to drag Váli around with him when Váli was not in lessons or playing with the maids’ children? If only he could do that all the time.

“I don’t know what you will do when you finally marry Sif,” he’d told Thor, earning him a satisfying groan. Just because Loki had been the lesser of two evils didn’t mean he had made Thor’s night easy. And, well, Loki usually wouldn’t care about Thor’s sex life as long as it didn’t interfere with his own needs, but although Loki hadn’t crafted any delusions for himself about Váli ascending to the throne, it would not be Sif’s children who stole Váli’s birthright. It could be anyone’s children but Sif’s.

“Why are you insisting on that?”

“You would make a good match,” Loki had replied. That, he didn’t actually know, but he had to trust his father’s judgement on that. His mother had always seemed to agree too, and who could know better than her? “Asgard would be pleased to have a warrior queen, I’m sure.”

“We would be terrible together,” Thor had insisted, as always, and, also as always, his grip on Loki had tightened as both of their gazes instinctively sought out Sif. She had been playing a game with some other warriors, a game in which they, with their eyes closed, threw a knife at their feet. The one whose knife landed closest to their foot won. Loki could already hear the screams. It was only a matter of time before a novice challenged Sif and stabbed himself in the foot. One of the best parts of the night.

“Father doesn’t seem to believe that.”

“Well, Father hasn’t made a comment about it in years.”

That had taken Loki by surprise, for he had been sure Thor’s marriage to Sif had been in their father’s agenda before there could be another… accident in their family. Not that Thor had needed to know that. 

Loki had arched an eyebrow. “I’m sure it is still in his plans.”

Thor’s grip on him had tightened even further, his hand moving to rest on Loki’s shoulder and squeezing in warning, a warning that said Loki better drop the topic. How embarrassing was it that Loki's mouth had actually clicked shut?

That wasn’t how things worked around here anymore.

“She loves you,” Loki had pressed. 

“As a friend.”

How stupid could a person be? That was what Loki had been thinking about when he turned to stare at Thor in near incredulity. And it could have been incredulity had Loki not been so familiar with his brother’s thick skull. Loki had even felt annoyed, in fact, because Thor must have been thinking along the same lines as him, sporting that glare that asked, _Why do you have to be so difficult?_

“No. As a lover, Thor. She loves you as a lover would. Anyone with eyes can see that.”

“I will not marry Sif,” Thor had replied with a tone of finality Loki hadn’t felt like arguing with. In part, Loki knew, Thor’s distaste for the topic came from the childhood humiliation of being punched in the face by the first girl for whom he had developed an infatuation. Loki remembered the day all too well. They had been in the training grounds, the glaring sun having reduced him to a mere spectator, to an object of ridicule for the other boys to poke at. He, of all the ones present, had had the perfect view, his eyes lazily scanning the ring. It had been sheer luck that they happened to fall on his brother and company just as Sif raised her fist and punched Thor squarely in the face. Now, Loki could say that his eyes had widened in alarm as Thor cupped his face and that had been the sole object of his attention. But no. The former was true, the latter not so much. Before the moment was lost, he had glanced at Sif, at her face flushed with embarrassment, at her panicked eyes searching for an exit amongst the forming crowd. It had always been Loki's belief that Sif punched Thor not because she was somehow offended, but because she had panicked, not having expected to have her affections returned. And then? Then there was everything else, like the fact that their future was not in their own hands, but they had always known it would come to this. For the most part, at least. 

Naturally, after the feast, they had fucked, Thor had been overly tender, and Loki had been left utterly unsatisfied, so there was that. The only balm of the night had been that Váli was both clothed and asleep when Loki flopped down beside him. 

This had been such a horrible week. First, he embarrassed himself by throwing himself at Thor's arms and crying like a stupid, little boy. Then, he discovered his mother had been conspiring against him with his brother, because who else?6 And, he was forced to go to a feast, to listen to three wenches drone on about the disgrace that was Váli, and to watch Váli walk away to his first lesson even though he was so _little_. 

And today! Today had been horrible too. It had been supposed to be Loki’s day off, but, at some point in the day, Váli had decided that his nanny’s company was insufficient, climbed up on Loki’s lap, and pushed away a millennia old manuscript as if it were nothing in order to make space for his papers and crayons. When Loki had thrown an unamused look at Ingrid, he'd seen a woman calmly sitting on the couch as she folded Váli's clothes on her lap. Loki had almost told her to ask someone else to do it, but what would have been the difference? Loki’s usual excuse was “I’m busy,” which was rather a statement of his current state of existence, but since that hadn’t been true at the moment, he had to conform himself with picking up a crayon until he had to, well, rest his eyes. That was how this whole thing had started, and, naturally, it all ended with one word: “No.”

Váli pouted and sniffled, wiggling around until he had made himself comfortable again, though not in a chair of his own as Loki had hoped. Dejectedly, Váli leaned forward on the table and pillowed his head on his arm, lazily pushing his crayon across the paper.

For a while, Loki watched him in silence. He imagined Váli was aware of it, even if his head remained stubbornly on his arm, the crayon still moving from one side of the paper to the other, leaving a thick orange line in its wake.

Another sniffle, and Loki brushed his hand through Váli's hair. Unlike what Thor liked to believe, Loki wasn't being stubborn just for the sake of it, but because being otherwise was against their best interests, as the night of the feast illustrated. The court always did complain that both brother and father granted him too many indulgences, never mind the mother. But Váli, as a child his age was wont to do, had found the proper approach to make Loki reconsider: seemingly giving up. Seeing Váli so despondent didn’t make him feel guilt exactly; it was something else, but something Loki had no desire to experience for long. So, with the same feeling of defeat with which he had given in to Thor, Loki gritted out, “Fine.”

In the blink of an eye, Váli jumped up from Loki’s lap and ran to the uninhabited room that was supposedly his in search of shoes, uncaring of Loki’s shout that they wouldn’t hunt Thor down if he wasn’t in his chambers. With an irritated huff, Loki watched as Ingrid set the clothes aside and followed Váli into “his” room, the one that had been furnished for naught, for Váli had no intention of stop sneaking into Loki’s bed despite what the insistent requests for a bedchamber of his own would lead one to believe.

Loki groaned and let his head fall into his hands. He was doing far more than just falling into old patterns.

1\. For how many times did Loki have to explain that two weeks meant no more and no less than two weeks? Never mind that he had been impressed with Thor's report on the absurdity of only being allowed to interact with "their," meaning Loki's, son 26 times a year when Loki kept dragging Váli around court right in front of Thor's face. In fact, Loki had been so impressed with the presentation that, to Thor's utter frustration, he had asked Thor if their mother helped him with that too. [ ▲ ]

2\. Just watching the havoc the daughters of his maids wreaked with their mother's hair trying to make some kind of intricate hairdo made him wince. He had almost died when Váli asked to try it on him, and that was when Loki knew the hair had to go, no matter the sadness it inflicted upon both Váli and Thor. [ ▲ ]

3\. And even before then. She had been scandalized when Loki admitted he had not gone to see a healer during the time he had been hiding his pregnancy, for she had been sure news of Váli's upcoming arrival had not spread not because Loki hadn't had his pregnancy confirmed in the Healing Rooms, but because Loki had sworn the healers to secrecy.

Shame had bubbled up in Loki's chest, tinting his cheeks a deep red, for he had known that, for both his and the child's wellbeing, he should have gone to be examined long ago. But, Loki hadn't wanted to have the fears he had shoved to the recesses of his mind confirmed, hadn't wanted to be told that his babe would suffer from deformities, knowing it was his fault for being disgusting enough to lay with his own blood. It would have been so easy then—if he had gone to the healers early, if Váli had been deformed—to rid himself of that little parasite growing in his belly and call it a mercy.

But, for obvious reasons, Loki couldn't have confessed that to his mother, so the equally obvious solution had been to wrap his arms around his stomach protectively and ask what assurance he had that he wouldn't be drugged and have the child ripped from his womb.

She had recoiled as if Loki had dared raise a hand against her, and yes, he had felt the guilt almost immediately, the urge to utter apologies that turned to ash in his mouth. And with her head slightly cocked, with that watery smile that meant Loki's jibe had struck true, she had prompted him to remember all the times he had come to her wishing for an only male body, one whose skin wouldn't feel too tight on him before the turn of the decade, one who wouldn't make the more loathed parts of his body punish him with gusto for all the delayed cycles when he inevitably shifted back to the body he was born in. Because of course Loki hadn't forgotten all the summer days he had spent with his head pillowed on his mother's lap, curled around his stomach as cramps tortured his lower belly, the pain going as far down as his thighs.

"How can you stand this?" he would ask her.

She would laugh, the sound a beautiful melody. "You get used to it before long."

"I don't want to get used to it," he would reply petulantly. "I don't want to have it at all."

She would thread her fingers through his hair, and if Loki was lucky enough, which was extremely relative, Thor would come to drag him somewhere else before their mother had time to horrify him with the “wonders” of childbearing, Loki’s adamant protests that he would never become pregnant falling on deaf ears.

After those sessions, he had always thanked the Norns that he was barren. Loki had yet to decide whether it was a blessing or a curse that he had been wrong. [ ▲ ]

4\. When Váli had been a baby, Loki had asked Ingrid, “For how long should I continue to nurse him?”

Somehow, asking Ingrid had been easier than asking his mother. He would have felt like an idiot with the latter because yes, he could still remember very clearly all the times he had vowed to never bear a child. His mother refused to believe him, but Loki would forever insist that yes, the first time he felt Váli move inside him was as horrifying as he had imagined.

Without looking up from the strewn about toys she had been collecting, Ingrid had replied, “For as long as you and the child desire it, my lord. And, of course, if it isn’t too inconvenient.” He had stared at her for a while, but, considering how they had met, Loki had quickly realised there was very little he could do to unnerve her, without mentioning she had no doubt been trained by his mother to prevent exactly that. The things at which she did look twice, as Loki had later discovered, were the amount of time he and Váli could spend sleeping or the time Loki could spend reading with Váli drawing at his feet or _on_ his feet as the case might be. Well, there was also the matter where she, along with the other maids, threw a fit every time they found Váli drawing on the walls, and that was how Loki was reminded to never tell a woman he didn’t understand what the fuss was about, especially because, in the end, they only grew more mutinuous if Loki demonstrated how he could get rid of the mess with a simple wave of the hand.

All in all, that was how Loki found himself still nursing in the mornings upon waking, in the nights before going to sleep, and, until a year or so ago, in the afternoons before Váli’s nap. Easiest way to either put Váli to sleep or shove him in the shower, coincidentally with his eyes still glued together. [ ▲ ]

5\. It made a joke of them all, they had claimed, to allow Loki to drag his bastard around court when they all knew the child was nothing but that. A bastard with no future.

Rage had thrummed through Loki’s veins, but he had remained silent, with his jaw clenched tight, as the women droned on and on about the embarrassment, the shame, the humiliation, like Loki wasn’t the one living it. But, he had remained dutifully silent, hands clasped behind his back, digging his nails into his palms and mapping the half-moons left there with the pads of his fingers. He had dug his nails so deeply when his father promised to give it some thought that the angry marks had throbbed for hours afterwards.

He hadn’t dared to glance in Thor’s direction, but at least that had helped him take the final decision regarding Váli’s studies. Somehow, Loki would see them all eat their words. [ ▲ ]

6\. Loki struggled to understand how that had come to pass, for Thor had never shared that closeness with their mother before. Not like Loki had.

The root of the problem was that Loki felt betrayed, yes, but also… stupid. He should have known, or at least _suspected_ , when Thor presented to him a cake baked by himself, telling Loki that he had had their mother’s help. He had thought it strange, of course. Since when did his brother take the time to go to the kitchens to bake or cook? But perhaps, and just _perhaps_ , Loki had been too focused on the pleasure of having Thor at his feet to pay attention to every little detail. It had been him calling the shots; it had been him with the power to crush the other with one word, and just _perhaps_ that had been more important than actually listening to the words coming out of Thor's mouth. What had Thor said, anyway? Nothing new. Just the same old story. The same delusional dream. Loki had come to loathe it even more with each passing day this last year because he could… see it, he supposed. He could imagine it. With Thor playing with Váli, tickling him, making him shriek with laughter, he could imagine things going down differently because perhaps he was starting to understand what his mother meant when she said his happiness was her happiness.

But this? What was Loki supposed to think of this? "You are aware, then, of Mother’s suggestion?” he had asked, and Thor had answered most satisfactorily. Loki liked to believe that if the cake was not enough proof of his mother conspiring against him with Thor, then this had to be it. Should Loki assume their mother had volunteered the information, or should he assume Thor had sought it out? Admittedly, the latter was sounding more likely by the second, even if begrudgingly, but that might be because Loki didn't want to consider the implications of the former.

Could it be that their mother knew? More than the upcoming lecture, Loki hadn't been able to stop hearing that question clanking around in his mind as he walked to her weaving room in response to her summon. He had sat at his usual spot, kneading his fingers, finding his gaze shying away from hers. In what, shame? He had been thankful that his mouth had suddenly felt dry as an arid desert, for he would have otherwise asked, "Do you know?" And, as was her wont, with that knowing glint in her eyes, she would have replied, "Do I know what, darling?" And if Loki had asked that, and if his mother had replied that, what would have happened then? He couldn't picture the amused knowing on his mother's face without it twisting into a look of utter revulsion, the same look of absolute disgust he had imagined written across both of his parents' faces since the first time he found himself on the floor, on his back, with his legs spread wide open for his brother.

He couldn't see that look on his mother's face. Or on his father's, to tell the truth, but it would be so much more devastating on his mother's. After all, after that day in his father's study, when he had been told to leave and he had been willing to do it, he had come to terms with the fact that he would forever be the disappointment in their family, a fact that hurt all the more because Loki knew his insistence on keeping the child was born partly due to Váli being Thor's. Had the child been another man's, perhaps, and just _perhaps_ , Loki might have found it easier to get rid of it.

But no point dwelling on that. The same could be said, he supposed, of the question of whether his mother knew. Loki had an inkling she did, and with this situation with Thor, she ought to know, but, surely, if that were the case, he would have seen it in her gaze already? In moments like this, Loki wished he listened to the nonsense that sprouted from Thor's mouth, even if only with half an ear. Hopefully, this conspiring matter had been settled the very same day Loki realised how carelessly he had been—and still was—managing his affairs.

It was not one of his best moments, Loki would admit. Sobbing and seeking comfort in the arms of the very same man who had put him in this position to begin with. Normally, he would say he was above such things, but apparently not. Nevertheless, Loki believed that day was within its right to be an exception. He had exposed himself, yes, but after voicing an accusation that should have roused his brother's ire but that only caused Thor to cling to him, Loki thought it safe to assume that Thor was well aware of how simple it would be for Loki to turn towards the embrace of another.

Loki could savour, so very clearly yet with that foggy distance a memory from a week ago should have no right to have, the acrid sweetness of that day's farewell, the tender touch of Thor's calloused hands on his tear-streaked cheeks, the gentle press of Thor's lips upon his forehead.

"You could have asked me," Loki had said, and with the bloom of an amused grin Thor had replied, "You would have thrown me out before I could utter a word. Showing my face around here would have done nothing more than anger you."

Loki could have protested, but that would have been nothing but a waste of time, for Loki had indeed been angered when he saw Thor watching him and Váli from a distant balcony and even more so when he found Thor at his door not half an hour later. Their mother's words—"He misses you," she had murmured. That was how Loki had known to look—had irked him for a whole day afterwards. So, with Thor's hands still framing his face, Loki had settled for a simple "very true."

Thor had kissed him before Loki could decipher the emotions that fleeted across his face and suddenly jumped from the bed claiming that he had promised the Idiot Four that they would spar that afternoon. That was the last Loki saw of him that day, though he had seriously considered his mother's offer to join them at the high table for dinner, mostly so he could seethe in his chair whilst imagining all the many ways in which he could argue with her for this betrayal, yet knowing he never could, for how could he expect her to know that she had gone against his wishes?

That had been a horribly peculiar day, to say the least. [ ▲ ]


	10. Chapter 10

When he knocked on Thor's door, with Váli wrapped around his torso like some adorable, little monkey, Váli's cheek squished against his chest, he hoped—he truly did—that Thor was somewhere else. Last time they saw each other had been in the throne room, listening to imbecilic women prattle on unfavourably about Váli. And this was too soon. A week too soon. Loki could already feel that familiar anger licking at his insides, and he had barely heard the order to enter.

And he regretted it, already. He should have pretended not to have heard—had Váli even heard?—for the door had only been pushed an inch when Loki recognised the voices of the Idiot Four.

Most miserably, it was already too late by then to turn back. The creak of the door had been enough to grab the attention of the people inside. Váli perked up, gaze seeking Thor's, and, knowing it was the better option, Loki's did the same.

It would be easier, as Loki had told himself so many times, if at least a tiny semblance of annoyance were to flash through Thor's face. It didn't, of course. Instead, his face split into a wide grin, one that probably mirrored Váli's, his arms outstretched for Thor to pick him up. 

So Thor did, snatching Váli up by the armpits and spinning him around before levelling his grin on Loki. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Barely holding back an eye-roll—with monumental effort, in fact—Loki replied, "Your nephew wished to see you."

"And you didn't?" teased Thor. 

"Don't push it." Loki took a cursory look around the room, noting the awkward stances of the Warriors Three and lingering on the unimpressed look on Sif's face. That right there was something Loki couldn't understand. It wasn't like Sif would manage to woo Thor today. Or any other day, for that matter. "I see you're busy."

Thor scoffed. "No. Of course not. I've always got time for you and Váli."

"Right," Loki drawled, as if the Idiot Four didn't have plans to stay in their seats. "Why don't Váli and I come back later?"

"Mommy, no," Váli whined, tearing his gaze away from the lock of Thor's hair he had been braiding. "Uncle's friends were just leaving." And then he was back to braiding.

Thor nodded sagely, like Váli had said something very reasonable.

Unamused, Loki's eyebrows climbed up his forehead, prepared to note how none of them had risen to their feet when Fandral stood up, laughing heartily and coming to pat Loki on the back. 

"I see you're raising a little tyrant there, Loki. Following in your footsteps?"

Because Fandral was the most agreeable of Thor's friends, Loki allowed the last pat to linger, smiling easily. "Oh, no, Váli's far too sweet for that. But he has been hoping to spend time with Thor all day. You'll have to forgive him for his impudence."

Perhaps because Volstagg was a family man, or perhaps because Váli was that adorable as far as children went, Volstagg rose from his seat with the same good-natured attitude of Fandral, including the pat on the back. That one, however, was less welcome, making Loki cough with the strength of it. He and Volstagg had never been close, but there was no denying the man had a slightly soft spot for Loki because Loki was, after all, his friend's little brother. Which also meant it would be great if Loki had his own social group, but none would dare say that Thor, and Thor was too oblivious to take a hint. 

But perhaps Thor might be getting better at that, except that he somehow managed to miss the determined look on Sif's face, the one that promised she would discover and thwart whatever Loki was planning, which Loki was convinced was pretty unmissable.

Loki did so love to keep his schemes hidden from even himself. 

"What?" Loki snapped, not appreciating the look darkening Thor's features. "Didn't you say you had time for us?"

"It's not that," Thor muttered, gently taking the tangled mess that had become of his hair out of Váli's hands. "Mongrel, do you want to go look for the chess set?"

Váli nodded eagerly, ever innocent, and ran out in the direction of Thor's bedchamber. Once he was out of earshot, Loki opened his mouth to argue—about what, he wasn't sure, but he did know Thor had no reason to glare at him—when Thor pushed him forwards, an arm wrapped tightly around his waist and his other hand a vicious grip in his hair. Thor's tongue licked into his mouth, and Loki moaned, pressing his body flush against Thor's.

Oh, he needed this, but, like with all other things between them, it ended too soon. Far too soon, but Loki recognised the need for it to end. Váli would return soon, chess set in hand, and he couldn't see his mother kissing his uncle of all things. 

"What is it?" Loki asked, the bite in his voice not absent but softened by his exhaustion. 

Thor glowered, though Loki would say pouted was a more apt description. Was Thor aware he did that too?

"You promised," his brother grumbled petulantly, his grip on him tightening. 

Loki hummed, returning the embrace, and leaned in to whisper in Thor's ear, letting his breath ghost over the shell of it. "Promised what, Brother?"

"That no one but me would touch you," Thor answered, still childlike in his ill-temper as he nuzzled Loki's cheek. 

Loki sighed, equal parts amused and exasperated. Maybe even a little indignant if he dwelled on it. "And who has touched me, pray tell?"

His brother didn't reply, jaw stubbornly clenched tight as he buried his nose in Loki's hair, breathing him in. Loki had come to wonder if Thor thought that he, like a hound, could smell the touch of someone else on him by doing so. It would be like Thor to imagine he could. 

Loki chuckled softly, deciding to take this bout of jealousy good-naturedly. He might not be so forgiving the next time. "Fandral, Thor? Truly? You're jealous of him?"

"You promised," Thor insisted, mouth drawn down in a frown, stepping away at the sound of Váli's slapping footsteps, their time cut short.

"You promised too," Loki said in monotone, no resentment or reproach in his voice. It was a statement, a mere observation, but it made Thor flinch nonetheless, the reaction half obscured by his hair, fallen over his face like a curtain as he bent to take the chess set from Váli.

With a smile that hadn't been there a second ago, Thor asked, "Did you make too much of a mess?"

"Nope," Váli replied cheerfully, tugging on Thor's hand. "C'mon."

With a sigh, Loki followed after them, and, telling himself it was for Váli, he perched himself on Thor's armrest and conjured a comb to his hand, disentangling Váli's poor attempt at braiding with practiced ease. An intricate braid flowed down from Thor's scalps thereafter, the product of Loki's nimble fingers and three chess matches between a man and a child who knew he was being humoured.

Taking advantage of Váli's grumbling, his focus occupied on returning each piece to its place for another match, his brother leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, and Loki sighed again, long suffering, rolling his eyes, fighting the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

~°•°~

"You have to be nicer to Uncle, Mommy. You're too rude."

That had been Váli's verdict when Loki snapped a firm no at Thor's request to join them for dinner. The little traitor had shaken his head sadly, as if he and Thor hadn't been pushing Loki's buttons all day, and repeated, "You have to be nicer."

"Nicer," unfortunately, meant something different in a child's mind, something that probably involved shiny rainbows and a beaming sun and a happy family holding hands like in that drawing Váli had given him a week or so ago. Loki had smiled, of course, in case there had been any doubt of that, which would be completely unwarranted. Because Loki  _ had _ smiled, tightly and painfully, but he had smiled and bitten his tongue instead of trying to get Váli to understand that Thor wasn't part of their family, that their family was composed only of the two of them, Loki and Váli and no one else: mother and son and end of story. 

Loki hadn't known whether to pity Váli or himself. Today, though, he was determinedly choosing to pity himself. Himself and his arm, swung back and forth as Váli skipped along, holding one of Loki's hands hostage and tugging on one of Thor's, showing Loki how to be "nicer" to poor, maltreated Uncle Thor. 

Loki didn't even have the strength to glare at his oaf of a brother anymore for corrupting his child so.

~°•°~

The only highlights of the day were that Váli decided he wanted to be tucked in in his own bed and that jealousy miraculously reminded Thor of how to fuck someone properly. Loki had genuinely begun to fear he would have to seek another bedmate if Thor insisted on "making love" to him. 

Sentiment.

~°•°~

For the record, Loki did allow Thor to "make love" to him the second time, and, as predicted, he was left unsatisfied, wanting, and  _ aching _ . 

It wasn't long before Loki climbed back on top of Thor, trying to chase away that cursed emptiness in his chest. 

The flash of… of  _ something _ across Thor's face, of something unwelcome and pitying, told Loki that Thor knew, in some capacity, what Loki was trying to do. It only made him hate Thor even more, regardless of the wave of relief that crashed through him when Thor obliged him.

~°•°~

But, it, of course, led to nothing. 

Loki had been a fool to think that Váli would actually sleep on his own, his timid footsteps soon triggering one of the many spells Loki had cast in his chambers. Initially intended to warn him of some uninvited guest, their main purpose now was to alert Loki of Váli’s upcoming entrance, giving Loki just enough time to shove Thor off him and pull the quilt over their naked bodies. 

Thor’s eyes widened comically when the door was finally pushed open, its creaking obscenely loud in the pregnant silence of the room, disturbed only, Loki was sure, by the quick bangs of his heartbeat.

Turning his head slowly, eyes crazed and voice strained, Loki asked, “What is it, darling?”

Váli rubbed his stomach, rumpling up his shirt. “My tummy hurts.”

“Have you gone potty?” Loki tugged the quilt higher over their bodies, his skin warm and crimson with shame, wincing when he felt a trickle of Thor’s seed travel down his thigh.

“No, Mommy!” Váli whined as he shuffled to the bed. “Not like that!”

Loki sighed, massaging his temples. “Váli, darling, you already suckled tonight. What’s more, you ate a portion of your uncle’s meal.”

“He sure did!” Thor laughed—boomed, really—like Váli had performed some great feat in need of celebration.

The idiot!

“You oaf!” Loki slapped Thor’s shoulder, punctuating his next sentence with yet another, harsher slap. “I told you not to feed him so much!”

Thor smiled sheepishly, apparently not sufficiently scolded, for he still had the gall to say, “Come, Loki. Surely, it can’t be too bad to get some food in him every once in a while.”

Loki gasped, just barely refraining from wrapping his hands around his brother’s throat and strangling the life out of him. “Are you implying I’m not feeding my child?”

“I’m just saying you might not be—”

“ _ Mama _ ,” Váli whined, stretching his arms towards Loki, who, after quickly conjuring back his and Thor's clothes, hauled him up into the bed. 

Váli wriggled, settling atop Loki’s chest with a contented sigh. He shifted, turning his head to blink at Thor. Loki couldn't quite see his face, but he was sure he was smiling. Why wouldn't he? 

With a sigh of his own—though one certainly not as happy as Váli's, but tired. Tired as he always was these days—Loki ran a hand down Váli's back, rubbing small circles over his shirt. “If your tummy hurts, it’s because you ate too much."

If it even hurt at all.

Which it most likely didn't.

Still, Loki sent Thor the nastiest glare in his repertory, finally cowing him as Thor ducked his head and mumbled, “I’m sorry, Loki.” 

Loki nodded to himself, smug in his victory. A short-lived one, yes, but victory nonetheless. 

It was hollow, just like everything else.

“Darling, are you sure this has nothing to do with not wanting to sleep by yourself?”

“No, Mommy. It’s my tummy,” Váli replied a tad too quickly for Loki to believe him.

“Hmm. I told you this would happen, did I not?”

Váli had asked for a chamber to himself a mere month ago, and Loki had been reluctant. Like a child his age, Váli had argued that the children Grandpa wanted him to play with all had rooms to themselves; therefore, he should have one too. Loki hadn't been able to refute such a statement. He was aware of how… unusual his childrearing practices were, especially his insistence on having Váli sleep with him amongst other more… unusual practices. It was a common point of contention between him and his mother—and even with his father when the man saw fit to meddle with Loki's affairs. 

The point was, however—before he digressed too much—that Loki doubted that someone who enjoyed making his nights a torment had suddenly decided that using him as both pillow and mattress was no longer agreeable. 

“Ingrid, when did your oldest move out of your room?” Loki had asked the maid.

“Roughly at the age of nine,” she had replied much to Váli’s protests. 

It was not the same thing, Váli had whined. Loki couldn't make that comparison. At his tender age, Váli knew that. Yet, seeing as the child was a bastard, Loki could very well  _ make _ that comparison, for his chambers were not Váli's to inherit. 

Regardless, knowing Váli wouldn't last half a night by himself, Loki had the room next to his furnished for Váli, and, as predicted, his little torment would climb into his bed every night without fail, complaining of this ache or that. A stomachache was nothing new by this point.

“You want me to leave, I take it?” Thor asked, already scuttling off the bed.

Loki sent a pointed look to the child taking up residence on his chest. “Well, we won’t be able to resume our activities.”

Thor nodded, running his fingers down his still standing braid, a blush spreading across his cheeks. He opened his mouth, presumably to say something stupid, but thought better of it and snapped it close. It wasn’t like Loki hadn’t warned him this could happen. In fact, after hugging the air out of Loki for being allowed to stay the night for the first time in years, he had asked why Loki didn’t lock the door, to which Loki replied that locking the door would make Váli cry. Loki knew. He had tried that before to see if Váli would go to sleep in the room he had requested, just because. On principle, perhaps. Loki had also pretended to be asleep when Váli called for him, his voice already wobbly, so the result was obvious: Váli began to cry; Loki opened the door. It was for the best this way anyway. Loki could not fall asleep without Váli beside him. Too much worry. 

“When can I see him again?”

Loki pressed his cheek against the top of Váli’s hair, inhaling the sweet scent of cinnamon. “In two weeks, Thor. You know how this works.”

“But that’s too  _ long _ .”

_ Not this again _ , Loki thought, shushing Váli and pushing his head back against his chest. They had discussed this just earlier today, after all. Loki was not budging again. “It's the same time frame as always.”

Váli squirmed out of Loki’s grip and reached out to Thor, who, of course, scooped him up into his arms despite Loki’s stern call to do otherwise. 

“Stay,” Váli ordered, hands clutching the front of Thor’s shirt.

Thor smiled sadly, as if Loki wasn’t doing him a favour by sparing him from fatherhood. No, of course not. Instead, Loki was the villain. “I can’t, mongrel. Your mother said so.”

Loki’s left eye twitched at the nickname Thor had chosen for Váli. He very much wanted to have that “endearment” explained, but that wasn’t his main focus at the moment. “Thor,” he warned, “we agreed.”

Váli buried his face in the crook of Thor’s neck, grip tightening as Thor rubbed his back. “Just this once, Mommy,” he mumbled, voice muffled. 

Loki huffed, his resolve slipping away at the desolate look on Thor’s face, at Váli’s promises that he would be a good child, which would last no more than six hours. Loki kept count. How did he always end up roped in these situations? How had he been convinced to let Thor stay in the first place, when Váli had agreed to sleep on his own? Oh, the wonders this would do for his reputation. 

“Fine,” he snapped. “Just for tonight.”

Thor beamed, nodding eagerly alongside Váli. Against his will, Loki felt his lower lip jut out in a pout, because, obviously, “Just for tonight” would be interpreted as “Why, brother mine, whenever you want!” 

It was all or nothing with Thor. Possibly with Váli, too. But that wasn’t what bothered Loki the most, no. Of course not. What bothered him the most was that he couldn’t stay displeased with Váli kissing his cheek in thanks and snuggling between them before declaring, “Storytime, Mommy!” Because, naturally, there was no stomachache. No, of course not. This was but an elaborate ploy to integrate Thor into their lives. Loki knew it. He wouldn't underestimate his brother. Not again, not like that. Because, what could be more domestic than snuggling together in bed like some parody of a family and letting Thor kiss him goodnight?

"Love you," his brother whispered.

"Love you too," Loki grumbled back, miffed about the whole situation. 

He  _ was _ . The arm over his waist and the child snuggled close to his ribs just made it difficult to protest too vehemently.


	11. Chapter 11

The first time his father met Váli was after yet another failed attempt at letting Váli suckle from the breast of a wet nurse. It had barely been midmorning, the light faint, the halfway closed curtains swaying with the breeze. Loki had been lying in bed, his chest exposed, trying to talk himself into employing a wet nurse as he knew he would have to do regardless of whether he kept Váli or not, no matter how much the babe might fuss at first. 

It had been peaceful. As peaceful as a morning could be when one was keenly aware of how  _ wrong _ their body was, the proof of it right there in one's arms, so blissfully unaware of all the misery he was bringing his bearer. And Loki had felt guilty, just slightly, for thinking like that. Like Váli was something unfortunate that had happened to him, something that made him miserable. But Váli  _ had _ been, and still was, sometimes. Something that made him miserable. 

Well, perhaps he was exaggerating, but it hadn't felt like that at the moment, with his bleary eyes, longing for a deep slumber, blinking owlishly at the forest beyond the palace. 

He had been exhausted, so exhausted, finally admitting that he had let his youth slip through his fingers because of one careless act. He had been the youngest parent at court, and still was, no denying it. He had little interest in the activities of people his age: drinking themselves into oblivion, hitting each other with swords, going out on quests. But he had  _ interests _ , things he had wanted to do, that he could have done had Váli not arrived into his life so prematurely.

It mattered little now, he had begun to accept that quiet morning. He had a child; he could not change that. 

He had tried to give the child away; Norns knew he had. But Loki had been kidding himself when he thought he was capable of that. Clearly, he wasn't. He wasn't even capable of letting a maid care for Váli, not even when the babe had cried in the middle of the night and all Loki had wanted was to go back to sleep. 

See, Loki would slip Váli into the arms of the maid, the one that slept in his chambers precisely because of this, his refusal to let Váli sleep in a nursery instead of with him, on his chest, where Loki knew he would be safe. Because the maid would take Váli into her arms, shush him so very softly, cradling him against her bosom, and that was all well and good until she began to walk away. 

_ She's stealing my baby _ , Loki would think, mind muddled with the remnants of sleep yet awake enough to know that was most likely not the case. 

Still, he would always argue with the maid to let him do it and struggle to actually do it afterwards, all under her judging eyes.

So he had been exhausted, and reasonably so. He had drifted off in a light doze, one haunted by the knowledge that now everyone knew what was between his legs. And, it shouldn't matter. He shouldn't care. And he hadn't. At least not during his pregnancy. The ire Thor had incurred had not left room for that. But then, on that quiet morning…

Loki had never had a more humiliating experience. Be it because of the position in which he had been caught or because he had been so easily caught unawares, Loki wasn’t sure, but there was no denying how the sound of his father clearing his throat had him jolting upright, skin flushing crimson with shame.

“Father,” he’d huffed, fumbling to get Váli to latch again despite the indignant babe’s struggle to get away from him.

“Son,” his father had replied amicably, not the least bothered by the sharp cries splitting Loki’s ears.

Having won the most ridiculous of squabbles, Loki had asked, “Is this the moment I'm thrown out on my arse?”

“No, that's not what I had in mind.”

“No, of course not.”

Of course it had not been in the king’s best interest to dispose of a sorcerer of Loki’s calibre just because of one little taint, one that could be so easily snuffed.

“You must understand my position.”

“Oh, but I do, Father.”

Hadn’t he ever?

His father had shaken his head, as if Loki, as always, missed the point. “Your mother tells me you're thinking of giving Váli away.”

Well… 

“It would be for the best, would it not? Váli needs a mother at the very least. I cannot be that for him.”

“Why not?”

Again, Loki had huffed. He would have rolled his eyes—that was what he had actually wanted to do—but such an irreverent gesture had been dutifully trained out of him when in his father’s presence from early on.

“If this is some kind of game, Father, I am not in the mood.”

“I bring no such things. It is common knowledge that you have birthed a child, Loki, although admittedly most believe you were cursed. There is no point in separating Váli from his family now.”

Pointedly ignoring his father’s words, Loki had moved to burp Váli when he’d had his fill, all too conscious of the sharp eye watching him. He’d stared at Váli afterwards, once the baby had coughed up a splutter of milk and snuggled back to sleep in his arms.

He’d stared and wondered,  _ Why is he so ugly? _

His mother had slapped the back of his head last time he’d asked that aloud, but Loki couldn’t be faulted for speaking the truth, now, could he?

It was just…

Keeping Váli would mean kissing his freedom goodbye and forfeiting what remained of his youth. Was it really worth it?

Before he’d realised what he was doing, his mouth began to form words he had never meant to utter.

“I don't think I love my child. Mother was quite cross with me, in fact, when I told her Váli has nothing that can be considered beautiful in him.”

_ I think I only want to keep him because of what it does to Thor _ .

He’d managed to stop himself just before confessing that last part, but he had hated that thought no less than the words spoken. But his father's reply—that Loki would learn to love Váli given time, that Váli would be a prince in everything but title—how Loki had loathed them. He had appreciated the sentiment, in a way, but that was all it was. 

Sentiment. 

Useless. 

"It's not as cute as it used to be, is it?"

Thor looked up, averting his gaze from Loki's breasts—those damn things, making it too easy to prove what a pervert Thor was. Loki had known, oh he had  _ known _ Thor had a preference for the female body—and the child attached to one of them. 

"Probably," Thor agreed, mock sagely, unabashed about being caught staring. Of course. "It's because he doesn't fit in your arms any longer. His legs are out, sprawled all over the place. That's not very cute."

Loki huffed, rearranging Váli in a bout of self-consciousness.

"But I think it suits you."

Loki cleared his throat, tugging on his tunic to at least hide the breast not being suckled dry, the little mound peeking from beneath the fabric. How he hated them.

"Could you look somewhere else?"

Thor smiled, a befuddled thing that only augmented Loki's awareness of Váli's mouth on his nipple, of the milk flowing into his mouth—the changes his body had been forced through. 

"I mean it," his brother insisted, propping himself up on the bed. "It suits you. It makes you look lovely. Well, lovelier."

Loki snorted, smiling self-deprecatingly as Váli blinked up at him before his heavy eyelids drooped once more. 

"You're a pervert. Did you know that?" he whispered, unwilling to disturb his child again. 

"Nonsense. I speak the truth. I have the honour of saying my brother is the loveliest man in all the Nine Realms."

"Only the Nine Realms?" Loki teased. 

"The universe!" Thor proclaimed proudly, drawing one of those weird, protesting noises children were prone to make from Váli. Loki thought it was cute. But only half of the time. 

Thor smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

Loki shook his head exasperatedly, even if a bit fondly. A frown formed between his brow a second later as he snuck one hand between his chest and Váli, trying to get him to unlatch. "That's enough, darling. Come on."

With one final suck, Váli complied, giving Loki a sleepy glare before rolling off him and flopping down on the mattress. Clearly, the child had plans to make showering difficult today, but they had nowhere urgent to be anyways. Loki could let him sleep a little while longer.

"Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do," he muttered, letting his head fall on his brother's shoulders. 

"And what's that?" Thor replied innocently—too innocently—and pressed a kiss to his crown.

"Worming your way into our routine, of course," Loki answered, shifting around until he knew his elbow was digging uncomfortably into Thor's side. "It won't work, I warn you."

"Won't it?" Thor challenged, his smile almost teasing, but Loki picked up on the echo of uncertainty it carried. 

Good.

Very good.

It was about time Thor started feeling that way too. 

"Mm-hmm. I'm sure. _ Very _ sure."

Then there it was. The wary gulp. 

"And why's that?"

Loki tilted his head back, appraising eyes roaming over Thor's face, over the carefully neutral expression, but not nearly enough to hide what Loki craved to see. 

He could always be nicer when Váli was awake. 

"Tell me you love me."

Brow knitting together and eyes sparkling with caution, Thor obliged, "I love you."

"More than anything?"

"After Váli, of course. More than anything."

Right. Of course that had changed.

"Do you remember, then, what you used to tell me when my, ah,  _ peculiarity _ came into question?"

"That it is not a peculiarity at all," Thor replied, his conviction all but eroded by his wariness. "It's beautiful. Like you. There's nothing wrong with it."

Loki hummed, holding still as Thor raised a hand to cup his cheek. "I miss you."

Loki forced a tight-lipped smile. "I'm sure you do."

_ After all, what is the sun without a shadow to make him shine all the brighter? _

"Well, how much do you miss me?"

_ How much are you willing to give for us? _

With another thick swallow, Thor replied, “Must I even say it?”

Did Loki even have to throw Thor his most unamused look for him to know he was being serious?

“You vain creature,  _ fine.  _ I miss having you by my side—always. I do not sleep well without you, even though it means I needn’t fight for the quilt. I even miss your scathing remarks about people at court, the ones that so often got me into trouble.  _ I miss you. _ Will you tell me you miss me too?”

Loki scrunched up his nose, moving his head from side to side, before conceding, “Fine, yes. I miss you too. But  _ don’t  _ get too happy about it.”

Thor didn’t. Instead, he smiled sadly. “Mother misses you too. It would make her happy if you joined us for breakfast again.”

Gentle tugging on his tunic had Loki looking down, eyes narrowed in suspicion, to see Váli blinking owlishly at him. “I miss Grandma. Can we go see her?”

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose. He had known—oh, he had  _ known _ —that not throwing Thor out as soon as he blinked his eyes open was a mistake. Why hadn’t he listened?

{°•°}

Now that his brother was too busy glaring at people to see his face, Thor allowed himself a grin, the perfect opposite of Loki’s sour mood.

"Come on, Loki.  _ Smile _ a little. Be nicer. Right, Váli?"

"Right!" Váli chirped, skipping over lines only he could see. 

Ignoring them as was his wont, Loki instead responded, "Váli, darling, walk normally please. Now it's not the time to play."

Váli jumped again, landing with a loud  _ stomp _ . "But we can play later, right?"

"Of course we can," Loki replied sweetly, and Thor didn't deny that the swift transition from sporting a murderous glare to behaving like a sweet mother unnerved him. No matter his centuries of acquaintanceship with his brother's mercurial character. "But right now Mommy needs you to be on your best behaviour, okay?"

Váli blinked up at Loki before smiling, slipping his hand into Loki's. "Okay."

Loki took a deep breath, steeling his gaze forwards as the doors to the Great Hall came into view. In a weak attempt at reassurance, Thor clasped his brother’s shoulder and gave him a comforting squeeze, dropping his hand away before Loki had time to protest. It would probably be easier (as in, actually make a difference) to comfort Loki if Thor understood what troubled him so, but alas, that was nothing that would happen anytime soon, if ever. So far, every one of his attempts had been met with a thick wall, and not that he had intentions of surrendering so easily, but, for this day, it might just be better to ride the tide to the best of his abilities.

As was to be expected, heads turned in their direction once the great doors were opened. After all, Loki had not joined the court for breakfast in years, ever since Váli had been born, to be exact. Thor knew that he shouldn’t have, that perhaps he should have felt guilty, even, but he could not extinguish the flicker of pride that flared to life in his chest at this, at having Loki and Váli beside him, as if they were one family. For this was not only the first time Váli entered the Great Hall; it was also the first time the three of them were seen as a family by the court. It knew, of course, that Thor spent time with Loki and his bastard child, but it had never seen them together before. And this changed today, so of course Thor was brimming with happiness and pride, for now everyone could see that he had—and yes, Thor was aware that was a very relative term—a family of his own.

Not that it would get rid of the harpies, unfortunately. And, truly, Thor would wrap his arm around Loki’s waist to make his intentions crystal clear, both to his brother and the court, if he didn’t fear the gesture would unmake all the progress he had made. Regardless, being together in public, though as nothing more than brothers, sent a tingle of hope through Thor's body. In fact, there was nothing he appreciated more than their father forcing Loki to attend social gatherings. Like feasts. Especially feasts. Loki's sulky mood was the most effective way of keeping harpies away.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, their mother rose from her seat, a wide, happy grin splitting her face. That was another source of pride for Thor: their mother’s happiness. It was something so pure, especially after years of a relationship with Loki that had been no less rocky than Thor’s, that Thor couldn’t resent her for having Loki be the sole object of her attention.

"Loki," she greeted, arms outstretched towards him. "You came. I'm glad you could join us."

Loki leaned into the embrace, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Oh, I'm sure,” he drawled, darting a pointed look in their father's direction. 

The look was decidedly ignored as their father refused to rise to Loki's bait.

"Grandma!" Váli called and stood on tiptoe, his arms stretched out in a plea to be picked up. 

So their mother did, making a show of heaving Váli up into her arms. “You are getting heavy, little guy,” she told him and kissed his cheek.

Face twisting, Váli swiped a hand across his cheek. "Ew."

Loki chuckled, though Thor didn’t miss the tense line of his shoulders. He placed a hand on the small of Loki's back, intent on steering him towards the table, and, through some miracle, Loki complied, even if he did stumble, a weak attempt at resistance. Thor went as far as pulling Loki’s chair back and pushing him down with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Unsurprisingly, Loki’s eyes never left their mother. Thor might even feel bad about guilt-tripping him to come if it weren’t for the silent “thank you” their mother mouthed at him.

As their mother filled Váli’s plate with food (and as Thor discreetly did the same with Loki’s), she spoke at length of what they could do later that day, Váli nodding enthusiastically next to her. She spoke of visiting her gardens and of playing with the other noble children. Their father gave an approving nod at the latter; Loki made a pained noise at the back of his throat. His brother didn’t interrupt, though. Their mother continued speaking, and Loki continued to resist making whatever comment he wished to make. Judging by the suspicious glint in their father’s eye, Thor could tell how breakfast would end.

They couldn’t be serious, now, though, could they?

All of Thor’s hard work…  _ poof! _

No, Thor did not think it premature to place a grounding hand on Loki’s knee, the other playing with the new braid his brother had made for him that morning.

Truly, Thor did not know what he had expected.

Although Loki’s shoulders gradually lost most of their tension, his eyes were trained on their mother for as long as she held Váli. He occasionally looked away towards their father, whose expression was serene at the sight of their mother with Váli in her arms. Loki was distracted enough that he uttered not a single word of protest as Thor piled food on his plate. Even when Váli declared he was full and was handed over to Loki, Loki’s attention was somewhere else, namely, the tables of other noble families, whispering as they darted glances in their direction.

Despite the idle chatter preoccupying both his brother and father, Thor’s own gaze was tender, as it always was, when Váli was his focus. There was something deeply, and perhaps disgustingly, pleasing about watching Loki care for their son, even though Thor wasn’t supposed to think of Váli as  _ theirs _ but as  _ Loki’s _ . With Váli, Loki expressed a gentleness Thor knew he wouldn’t have seen otherwise, a love reserved for their child, a token of their shared devotion. Or so Thor had thought a couple years ago, give or take a few months. To have the full picture, it would be more accurate to say that Thor loved it as much as he hated it. Váli was and would forever be, as far as everyone knew, Loki’s bastard, but he was the child Thor had been able to get from his brother. The child Thor had briefly dreamt of when he had asked Loki if he was fertile all that time ago, Loki's cheeks reddening beautifully at what Thor had thought an innocent question. Váli was the child Thor had dreamt of during the quest that kept him away for the first months of Loki’s pregnancy, and, yes, he was the child Thor had denied. But, quite frankly, Thor thought Loki’s determination to have him be nothing but Váli’s uncle was getting old. Thor had apologised for calling Loki a whore. What more did Loki want?

Not that Thor would ever say that to his brother. Absolutely not. Especially not with breakfast about to be ruined.

“Have you thought about what I said?” their father asked, interrupting whatever whispered argument Loki was having with Váli, one of his hands bunched in Loki's tunic as the other reached for the food on Loki's plate. 

“Yes,” Loki replied. “And I insist. Váli will not be attending any more… playdates.”

“What’s wrong with playdates?” Thor asked, inadvertently interrupting his father’s argument.

Loki shot him a glare that said,  _ None of your business _ . Thor glared back, not quite with the same intensity as Loki, for he noted, with not small amount of confusion, that Váli hadn’t protested.

“Loki,” their father called. “I told you my grandson would be a prince in everything but title.”

“In everything but title,” Loki echoed. “Would you mind reminding me why? Oh, no, there’s no need. I’m reminded of it every time my child is called a bastard by those snotty brats!”

Anger flooding his veins, Thor demanded, “Why wasn’t I told of this?” ignoring Váli’s accusatory shout: “It  _ does _ mean something!”

His brother opened his mouth to reply with some crude comment, Thor was sure, but he snapped it shut immediately, for he couldn’t say what he wished in front of their parents, lest he give away a secret he thought their parents weren’t aware of. 

“Very well,” their father agreed, much to both Loki and Thor’s unease. Even their mother looked wary at Loki having won the battle so easily. “Thor, you will be giving the child horseback riding lessons starting today.”

Ignoring Váli’s cheers, Loki protested, “I have not—”

“It has been decided.” Their father stood from the table, prompting everyone else to follow suit. “The child must be entertained somehow.”

Loki clenched his jaw, and Thor didn’t need to take a more detailed look at his face to know he was in trouble.

{°•°}

“Bye, Mommy!” Váli had shouted once they exited the Great Hall, jumping into Thor’s arms as soon as they were out through the door, waving cheerfully at Loki.

Loki had taken a deep breath through his nose. Had looked heavenward as he prayed for patience. “Darling, no-one said I’m staying.”

“Oh. I thought you were.”

“I’m not,” he’d assured, taking another deep breath before deciding he needed to stop complicating his life. Which was how, despite how much his mind had urged him to wipe that stupid grin off Thor’s face, Loki found himself leaning against a fence under the morning sun, chin propped on his palm. He watched, with nothing better to do, as Thor directed Váli to a colt with a spotted grey coat born a year and a half later than Váli. He watched, shaking his head, as Thor retold Loki’s first riding lesson whilst looking for a saddle and a bridle. Thor smiled fondly at the memory, and Loki supposed that, with a stretch, being traumatised wasn’t so bad. In his defence, Thor—who had started his lessons years before, Loki felt the need to add—had dared him to stand up on the saddle, accusing him of being a coward if he refused. So, naturally, Loki had knelt on the saddle before moving to an upright position, body trembling with fear, for he did not trust the horse. Point was that if Loki had been given time to know the horse, he would have known that the horse shifting its weight didn’t mean he would fall to the ground and make a fool of himself. Not that it changed much, considering he had yelped and hurried to sit back down on the saddle, all to Thor’s delighted guffaws.

So, with nothing better to do, skin clammy with sweat underneath his clothes, Loki watched as Thor guided Váli around the field, getting him accustomed to the feel of the saddle beneath him. So different to Loki’s first lesson, which Váli would giggle about all day, Loki didn’t doubt.

So much for being a good child.

Cocking his head to the side, Loki hummed as he contemplated the scene before him, his mind devoid of snide comments for once despite the whispers he’d caught on their way to the stables. He was not focusing on that today. No, today was a rest day. It would not be ruined like yesterday. If Váli was having fun, Loki might as well try to… let go, a little. 

His heart fluttered, a warm buzz spreading through his body, whenever Thor looked after Váli, because Loki was entitled to fantasize too, as long as his thoughts never saw the light of day. Loki knew how that would end. There was no happy ending for them. At least not one in which they ended up together. Fantasizing, daydreaming, however one wished to call it, were temptations, and they were temptations for a reason. They were urges not meant to be indulged, ventures doomed from the very moment one’s resolve thinned. But, why so morose? Because, as Thor and Váli shared some secret joke between themselves, it was easy to picture them as a family. From Loki’s head, anyway. It was easy to picture some parallel universe in which Thor accepted Váli since he became aware of his existence, one in which Thor trusted Loki enough to know Loki had dignity. A universe in which, through some miracle of the Norns, they were a family of the traditional sort. Well, as traditional as they could be. A father, a mother, and a child. What dangerous fantasies.

Contrary to Thor’s beliefs, Loki did consider the preposterous idea of confessing Váli’s parentage under the slim possibility of having his child recognised as Thor’s heir. It was Váli’s rightful place, after all, if one ignored the fact that, as a bastard, Váli was ineligible to inherit. Had Thor thought about that? Confessing would not be enough. They would need to marry for Váli to be recognised. Would their parents truthfully allow such a thing when they were dozens of women perfectly suited to be Thor’s spouse? Political marriages that would be immensely more beneficial to Asgard than a marriage to his own brother? No. Loki was not so naive. Far from it, he liked to believe. And, marriage in itself? Loki had no interest in it. Better yet, who would be interested in Loki other than Thor? Thor, who either didn’t care about marrying Loki or wouldn’t be allowed to. Loki, for his part, was not interested in losing what little authority he had over Thor behind closed doors if—Norns forbid—Thor got to call him “wife.” No woman would be interested in marrying a man who had given birth and was called “mother,” and no man would be interested in marrying an intersex freak with a bastard child. Either way, no-one would be interested in marrying someone who refused to give them children, for Loki knew he couldn’t allow Váli to be pushed aside in favour of a legitimate child capable of inheriting.

That was only the beginning of Loki’s problems. Váli was seen as a stain on the House of Odin, and the only person who could be ignorant to the situation was Thor. The courtiers wanted Váli gone, and now, as Thor began to spend more time with Váli instead of focusing on finding a wife for when he took the throne, Váli would also be seen as a hindrance, an obstacle for whatever lady was interested in the title of queen. People were stupid, but not that stupid. If Loki and Thor continued their trysts, it would only be a matter of time before someone grew suspicious and, subsequently, dangerous. 

Loki, however, was not exempt from stupidity. He, too, was very stupid, he had to acknowledge. He knew he had not the freedom to dwell on such childish fantasies, and yet… 

When the riding lesson was over and Thor approached him with Váli in his arms, broad grins on both of their faces, Loki couldn’t help but grin back. What could make him more happy than his child’s happiness? And, like an idiot, Loki molded himself to Thor’s body, only distantly aware of Váli’s chatter as Thor guided him inside the palace with an arm around his waist in plain daylight.

He was getting careless again. 


End file.
